


The Angel of Shining Wings

by tabulaxrasa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Claire is their daughter, Coming Home From War, M/M, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Multiple Species, Overprotective Sam, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Mpreg, Threats of Violence, Threats of Violence Against Children, actually really fluffy, fantasy historical setting, no child harm, no graphic depictions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 10:43:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21252104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabulaxrasa/pseuds/tabulaxrasa
Summary: Five years ago, an alpha Angel soldier came to the door of omega Dean’s cottage. Even though they were true mates, Castiel dared stay only for a week before leaving for the Angel-Demon War.Dean’s heard nothing from his mate for five years. Now their pup, Claire, is four, and other alphas and even Dean’s family are trying to get him to move on. Frightened by threats from creepy alpha Alastair, Dean’s about ready to leave his cottage— when Castiel shows back up at his door.This isn’t the same handsome, confident soldier Dean last saw. This Castiel has been traumatized by being held prisoner by demons for years, tortured, had his wings cut off… and both Dean and Castiel have to confront the fact that they’re virtual strangers trying to build a family together.And they’ll have to confront a few other demons along the way…





	The Angel of Shining Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh first of all, thank you so much to my wonderful artist Aquacatz, who produced SUCH adorable art. Tell her how wonderful she is and [visit her on tumblr here.](https://aqua-ref.tumblr.com/post/188690339584/art-for-deancasbigbang-lovely-lovely-fic-by)
> 
> Second, thanks to draechaeli for bouncing ideas around and talking me through a crisis, and a HUGE thank you to both Wargurl and SoloArcana for beta-ing!! All remaining errors are my own negligence.
> 
> Like I tried to say in the tags, I tried to warn for everything I could think of, but really the fic is pretty mild and fluffy. If you have any concerns, feel free to contact me and ask!

[](https://ibb.co/kSVTkbv)

~*~

Most of the time, Dean didn't really mind being thought of as the village crazy omega. Yeah, it had hurt when Bobby and even Sam had stopped believing him, but as long as no one brought up Dean's absent mate, Dean didn't have to see the pity in their eyes. Sam had believed Dean at first, whole-heartedly, maybe due to some lingering bit of hero-worship. But despite the bite, despite the _pup_, Sam's sympathy had eventually turned to pity. Sam, like the rest of the village, thought Dean had made up some far-fetched story about a passing angel soldier to cover for an all-too-common rape. Now even Sam seemed to think Dean ought to move on.

"The bite hasn't faded," Dean would point out whenever Sam dared bring the subject up.

"The war's over," Sam had started saying. "So where is he?"

That, Dean had no answer for.

Castiel had promised to come back, and he hadn't.

Two years ago, many returning angel (and the occasional demon) soldiers, ragged with years of war, had passed through the village, reporting that a ceasefire had been reached; the war was over. And Dean had rushed to the door every time he heard someone pass by for months. Long after the unsteady stream of damaged soldiers had dried up.

Still, Dean's alpha did not appear. His bite didn't fade either, though, so he hadn't died, and he hadn't forsaken Dean. He just…hadn't come back.

"Your bond may not have been strong enough for the bite to change since you were together for such a short time," Ellen said to him, one rainy night. "He's probably dead, honey." She thought it was a kindness.

That had hurt, though, knowing his family didn't believe the bond was real. Dean knew, worst of all, that he would have doubted it himself. He hadn't believed in True Mates either before Castiel stumbled up to his door and triggered his heat after just a few minutes and Dean had just ._known._ It sounded stupid even inside his own head, so he never said it aloud. Not outside of that night, in bed with Cas, when they'd bitten each other.

And anyway, now Dean had Claire, and if Castiel never came back…well, Dean would be okay. It hurt, but Dean was used to the pain, and Dean had his pup and his family, and if everyone would just leave him alone, he would've been _fine._

Stupid alphas.

Benny and Victor were nice enough and took no for an answer. Benny still looked after him with soulful eyes, and it was clear he was waiting, but he was also fine with being Dean's friend while he waited.

In other circumstances, Dean would've considered either of them as prospective mates. They weren't the problem.

Lots of alphas were scared off by Dean's story of an angel alpha— no human alpha could beat even an angel beta, let alone an alpha— but some people just didn't understand the word no.

Or didn't care.

Gordon was bad enough, following Dean around the market, occasionally following him home— always at a distance, though, and he didn't try to speak to Dean much in front of Claire, and Sam or Bobby or even Benny's presence put him right off. He'd stand across the square and glower. Sam would growl under his breath and glower right back, and Dean kind of enjoyed that. If Gordon came too close when Dean was alone, Dean would just pull out the knife he carried and wave it around a little, and Gordon would creep off.

Dean could handle Gordon.

Alastair was the one who scared him.

He talked to Claire if he saw her, even though Dean had told him to never do that. He made it clear he thought of Sam as a puppy, and no one else seemed to intimidate him, either.

He'd come knocking on Dean's door late at night, trying to wheedle, then threaten his way in. Dean had started to dread any knock on the door.

"You should move into town," Sam said, but Dean couldn't really afford that. But he could move in with Sam and Jess, or with Bobby. He could stay at the Roadhouse under Ellen's watchful eye.

But the idea of Castiel finally showing up and finding him gone distressed Dean past bearing, so Dean and Claire stayed in their cabin on the edge of the woods, just out of sight of the village.

Most of the time, Dean loved their cottage. It had been his father's, built when he finally agreed to settle them down again. It had always been Dean's to care for, and it was all he and Claire had of their own. Besides, it was much more relaxing than the constant gossip and stares they got whenever they were in the village, anyway.

[](https://ibb.co/D79LwFd)

The night was a fine one, and Dean let Claire stay up late to catch fireflies. She hadn't actually caught any, but the sound of her laughter and delight as she chased them had lifted Dean's heart. In moments like these, he truly was content.

Which made it all the worse when Alastair appeared. He appeared out of nowhere, suddenly in their yard without Dean hearing or scenting him, or, apparently, coming through the gate. And considering how much Dean loathed his scent, that was saying something.

"Well hello, pretty little pup. Up late, aren't we?"

Claire froze for a moment then ran to Dean, who swept her into his arms immediately. "Good girl," he murmured, stroking her hair. He knew he was holding her too tight, but she didn't complain. She didn't make a sound. Dean wanted to rip Alastair's throat out.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean snapped. He tried to keep his voice controlled, for Claire's sake, but failed to keep the fury from creeping out.

"I just wanted to check in on my future family," Alastair cooed, and Dean's skin crawled.

"You're insane if you think—"

Then Claire turned in Dean's arms and growled at Alastair. It was such an _alpha_ thing to do that even Alastair was surprised— females, of course, couldn't be alphas. Dean was outrageously proud of her.

"Why don't you send the little chit to bed," Alastair said, eyeing her with something like speculation and something like distaste. "But don't you leave, Dean, or I'll have to follow and help."

Dean was definitely eager to get Claire somewhere safe. "Go hide under the bed," he whispered. "Don't come out unless it's me or Uncle Sam or Aunt Jess, okay?"

"Daddy," she whispered, more anguished than a four-year-old had the right to be.

"Go," Dean said, and Claire gave in and ran inside.

"Why the fuck do you think you're going to get out of this, Alastair?" Dean growled.

Alastair tsked, and started walking a meandering circle around Dean, staying just out of arm's reach. "Such language from an omega."

"Fuck off and die," Dean added.

"I'll have to cure you of some bad habits, I see," said Alastair, leaning in long enough to take a good whiff. "But such a sweet scent, I'm sure you can be a _good_ omega, Dean. With a little training and discipline."

"I will never fucking mate you," Dean said. "Since you seem to keep forgetting: I have a mate. And I would never fucking let you fucking touch me in a million fucking years, mate or no."

"Next time you're in heat, sweet little omega, without any alpha to knot you and breed you up, I'll be here." Dean swallowed as nausea churned his gut. "I'll keep you on my knot, little omega, don't you worry about that. I'll steal that bite away, too. I'll cut it off you if I have to."

Dean couldn't see much of Alastair's face but he swore the alpha grinned. "I'll breed you up." Suddenly he was much closer to Dean, and Dean could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. "And when your little pup's big enough, I'll breed her, too."

Dean snarled and lunged, ready to _rip tear claw destroy_, mindless in fury. But Alastair wasn't where Dean had sworn he was a second before. Now he was by the gate, laughing.

"You EVER come near her, you ever lay a HAND—"

"I'll see myself off, Dean. But just you wait, and think about what I said."

Alastair was gone then, as suddenly as he appeared.

Dean, shaken and furious and with nowhere to direct it, ran inside, calling for Claire. She crawled out from under her bed with a knife. Dean sobbed, once, before he got himself under control. He pulled his baby into his arms and held her for a long time. For once, she didn't complain, or wiggle to get away, but held him tightly.

He put her in his bed to sleep, and got in with her, but couldn’t sleep, jumping at every noise, eyes wide and straining in the dark. The way Alastair had moved was unnatural, and Dean didn't know how to fight that.

Dean worried for almost a week, sick with it, finally coming around to the idea that Sam was right: Dean had to move in with someone. He and Claire would leave their cottage. Bobby could use their help and he doted on Claire. Dean couldn't risk something happening to Claire. She'd be safe in the village, with all their family to watch over her. It was stupid to hang on to the cottage just because it's where Castiel would come. When Castiel didn't find Dean at the cottage, surely he would go into the village and ask. Anyone would be able to tell him where to find Dean.

If Castiel ever came.

Maybe he would never come. Maybe he couldn't; maybe he'd had second thoughts about mating a human almost-stranger. Maybe he was dead, and Dean would wait for the rest of his life. How long before he gave up? Another five years? Another ten?

Dean was up late, just himself and a cup of Bobby's moonshine and a single flickering candle. Claire was sleeping in her own bed in her little nook of a room, but Dean would move her into his bed when he was ready to sleep. He wasn't sure who he was protecting.

There was a knock on the door. Hesitant, quiet, not at all like how Alastair knocked, but Dean's flight-or-fight response still kicked into overdrive. He got up slowly and picked up his biggest knife. He sniffed at the door but didn't understand what he smelled. So Dean pulled the door open.

"Hello, Dean."

~*~

The first time Castiel had shown up at his door, it was supper time. Dean had just finished cooking when the knock came. Dean had never seen an angel before, despite having lived in angel territory all his life. Castiel looked unbearably handsome in his brown and blue uniform, with his great black wings, and his burning blue eyes.

Now, tonight, Castiel wore a sort of shapeless grey covering, looked more defeated than Dean could have imagined. His wings were gone.

"You came back," Dean said, stupidly.

"I promised." Castiel swayed on his feet.

"Come in, come in." Dean felt like he had an important visitor, but Castiel was…he'd been gone for five years, and they'd only known each other for a week before that. Dean's life was absurd.

"Are you hungry?" Dean asked, but didn't wait for an answer, because you could tell from looking at him that Castiel was hungry. Dean ushered him to a chair— still without touching him— and hurried to light the stove. There was nothing left of the simple stew that had made Dean and Claire's supper, but Dean had eggs and bacon and bread. He set the eggs and bacon to frying and put the kettle on.

"Where have you been?" Dean's voice didn't sound like him. It was angry and anguished, and told of the five years of waiting.

"I'm sorry, Dean,” Castiel said. "I was— it was not my choice."

Dean had been telling himself that for five years, hoping, but it still soothed something ego-based inside him. Castiel had not stayed away by choice.

Holy shit, Castiel had _come back_. Dean's hands were shaking so much that he made a mess of the bread he was trying to cut. Dean's alpha was here. His mate.

"Where are your wings?" Dean gasped, trying to fight back the tears. He saw Castiel flinch.

"They were…removed."

Wings were like limbs, Cas had explained that before. Dean had thought often of those wings, and how, when they were knotted together, Cas had wrapped the wings around them, creating a safe, soft, dark, warm bubble. They had been so soft. So sensitive, when Dean ran his hands through the feathers.

"Who removed them?" Dean was, selfishly, angry that he didn't get the wings back, that Claire wouldn't see them after he'd told her all about them.

"The demons holding me prisoner," Castiel said, in a dead, resigned sort of voice.

Oh, fuck.

"Fuck," Dean said, forgetting himself.

Castiel said nothing to that. The eggs were starting to burn so Dean hurried to plate all the food, including the ragged bread, which he smeared with butter and jam in an attempt to disguise it.

"Do you want tea or coffee?"

"Just hot water. With honey, if you have it."

Dean had teased Cas about his honey addiction, before, and made it a point to always keep some in the house, for when he came back.

He set the jar in front of Castiel— in front of his alpha.

Dean hovered nervously and then sat down across from Castiel, watching him devour the food.

"It's very good," Castiel said, voice somehow even rougher and deeper than Dean had remembered. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Dean said. He wondered if this was a dream. Of course, in his dreams, by this point, they were usually knotted on the floor, or, in one memorable and weirdly satisfying dream, in the middle of the village square.

"Do you live alone?" Castiel asked, even though he must be able to smell that Dean did not.

Dean, under pressure from too many alphas, took offense. "I've been faithful," he snapped.

Castiel put down his fork. "I know," he said, and Dean felt stupid and angry about feeling stupid. Dean had bit Cas, too, and his bite wouldn't have faded any more than the bite on Dean's neck had.

"I meant," Castiel looked away, suddenly shy. "Was there a pup?"

Dean's mood abruptly shifted again. Gods, of course, Castiel would be wondering that. Mating heats were enormously fertile, and they'd even talked about it before Cas went away. Castiel had spent five years wondering if he was a father.

"A daughter," Dean replied, watching his alpha's reaction closely. "Claire."

"Claire," Castiel said reverently, as if committing the sound to memory. There was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He gave no sign of being disappointed it was a girl and therefore not an alpha.

Dean’s tension unwound a little, and he felt a little warmer.

"May I see her?"

"Don't wake her up." Dean felt like everything was changing too fast, and he could only handle so many factors at a time.

"Of course," Castiel murmured.

When Castiel finished eating Dean took him to Claire's room, let him stand in the doorway and watch her with almost hungry eyes. "She's so big," Castiel whispered.

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "She's not a baby anymore."

They were standing close together in the doorway, and this was the closest they'd been. Dean could smell Castiel well now, and his brain was singing _alpha mate home safe mate,_ even though Castiel mostly smelled like exhaustion.

"She's beautiful," Castiel whispered. "Thank you."

For the first time that night, Dean touched Castiel. His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were shaking, and it took every bit of control he had to move slowly and softly. He gently put a hand on the alpha's shoulder, guided him away so he could shut the door. The shift was coarse under Dean's hand but Castiel was solid and warm. "You need to sleep," he said.

"I can sleep on the sofa, if you prefer," Castiel said, stiff and awkward.

A very small part of Dean was relieved— not because he didn’t want Castiel there, but because Castiel made no assumptions. And the rest of him couldn't make his mate sleep on the sofa; couldn’t bear to have Castiel that far away, now that he was _here_. "My bed's—" he remembered that Castiel knew Dean's bed— "I have the same bed," Dean said. "It's big enough."

Castiel smelled relieved, Dean thought, and nodded his agreement. He shooed Castiel toward the bedroom and hurried to put the dishes in the sink. He'd deal with them in the morning.

Dean's stomach lurched as he turned toward the bedroom. Was Castiel expecting to knot him tonight? Castiel, as Alpha, had that right, but he'd been so careful the first time…and he was exhausted. Dean was surprised to feel a little bit of disappointment. Castiel had not undressed but was sitting on the bed, looking around curiously. Dean didn't think that much had changed.

Dean looked at the filthy shift Castiel was wearing. "That is not getting in my bed," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Take it off."

Castiel blinked at him and then raised his arms and pulled at the neck in the most awkward move Dean had ever seen. Castiel hissed and Dean realized the alpha was in pain.

"Shit, sorry, let me help," Dean murmured. Castiel still stubbornly tugged at the neck, until Dean murmured ‘ _"Alpha,"_ and Castiel lowered his arms. He let Dean pull the ugly thing off and then moved back immediately, and Dean realized he was trying to hide his back. Fine, if he didn't want Dean to see it yet, Dean wouldn't pry.

He wondered how long ago Castiel had lost his wings. It obviously still hurt. Dean's omega instincts were urging him to fuss over Castiel, to coddle and coo and take care of his mate, nurse him back to health. Other instincts were urging Dean to find whoever did this to his alpha and tear them into shreds.

Dean dealt with all of these instincts by wadding up the coarse shift— it couldn't have felt good on any tender skin— and throwing it angrily into the corner. In the morning he'd burn it.

Castiel still wore loose shorts and Dean didn't try to remove them (and tried not to look too closely). He let Castiel tuck himself under the covers and turned his back to remove his own clothes. He carefully shut the door, because he didn't want Claire wandering into the room in the middle of the night.

Castiel had already pulled the covers up high, so Dean took a deep breath, trying to ignore the alpha's scent and the tingly effect it had on him. He blew out the candle and crawled into bed himself, laying stiffly next to Castiel, without touching. Castiel was also lying very still, and overall it was uncomfortable to the point of being kind of painful.

"May I scent you?" Castiel's voice came quiet and low in the dark, and Dean relaxed as relief rushed through him.

"Yeah," he whispered back. “’Course."

Castiel turned— carefully, whether because his injuries pained him or to give Dean time to get used to it— and settled his face against Dean's neck. Of course, this allowed Dean to scent Castiel too, and his thoughts immediately calmed and his body relaxed. Having his alpha here, finally… it was surreal but his body chemistry was telling him _good good good, this is the way it's supposed to be._

Dean took a deep breath, suddenly exhausted, suddenly soothed. Castiel had returned.

~*~

Dean slept well and deep and woke up feeling remarkably rested. It took a little bit to remember why, and despite being able to feel and smell Castiel next to him, Dean was still afraid to open his eyes.

When he did, it was indeed to Castiel sleeping. In the morning light, Castiel looked even worse. His skin was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was limp and ragged. The stubble on his face was uneven and there were nicks, and Dean suddenly wondered if he'd shaved without a mirror.

His lips, though, those looked the same, and those sharp cheekbones. And when he opened his eyes, Dean was caught staring into them, even more reminiscent of a midday summer sky blue than Dean had remembered.

They had shifted a bit apart overnight, but they were still close enough to be swimming in each other's pheromones, and now, with eye contact, it felt like they were drowning. Dean hadn't felt this good since the first time he'd held Claire. His eyes wanted to close but he couldn't look away from Cas, either.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel whispered, voice even lower and scratchier than normal.

"Cas," Dean whispered, and found Castiel's face moving closer— was he leaning in, or was it Cas?— and then he finally closed his eyes as his mouth brushed against Cas's.

It was barely a kiss, but Dean felt a frisson like a small lightning strike race through him. He did not push, and neither did Cas— both of them already overwhelmed. Cas's hand touched Dean's wrist under the blanket, not even really grabbing, just resting. Dean wanted to rub himself against Cas's body, but he wanted to prolong this moment more, let it stretch out like crepuscular beams of light.

They kissed in soft brushes of skin for possibly a long time; it felt like a long time, and then Claire called from her room, and Dean jumped away like a teenager caught by his parents.

Castiel looked dazed, and suddenly Dean felt his face warming as embarrassment set in.

"That's Claire."

"Yes."

They didn't know how to talk to each other. "I better get her," Dean said. "Give me… ten minutes before you come out, all right? To explain."

"Of course." Cas stayed in bed and blinked while Dean rushed around in a flurry.

He pulled on his clothes and slipped out the door, shutting it quietly after him. Claire had gotten herself up; she was standing in front of his door, frowning, with her arms crossed like she was the parent and Dean was in trouble.

"Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

"Daddy. Are you sick?"

"No, sweet pea, not sick. Come on, let's go to the kitchen and make breakfast, huh?"

As soon as their normal schedule started Claire dropped her arms and skipped ahead of him to the kitchen. Kids.

Claire didn’t notice the dirty dishes in the sink, of course. Dean hurried to start the porridge and the coffee. He cut bread for Claire since it was later than normal. He sat at the table with coffee while the porridge cooked and watched Claire smear jam all over her face. His mouth felt glued shut.

She licked her fingers and looked at him. “Daddy? What do we do today?”

He had to tell her, now. Dean took a deep breath. “While you were asleep last night, Claire, something happened. A visitor. Well, someone came to the door.”

She went still and watch Dean with an alarming amount of intensity. “Who came?”

“Your alpha father,” he said, and pushed down the sudden irrational fear that Castiel wouldn’t still be in the bedroom when Dean returned to fetch him, that Dean had hallucinated the whole thing.

She looked around wildly, and it was kind of hilarious. “Where is he?”

“Just waking up,” Dean said. “I’ll go get him. He really, really wants to meet you.”

But Dean couldn’t leave the kitchen without wiping her face and hands to get most of the jam off.

His heart was pounding when he got back to his bedroom door, and Dean hesitated for a long moment, hand on the doorknob, listening. There was no sound from within, but Dean reminded himself, forcibly, that that didn’t mean anything. Castiel might have fallen back asleep, and he wasn’t exactly loud and rambunctious that Dean had ever seen, either.

This was stupid. Dean turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Castiel was there, right where Dean had left him, sitting on the bed. Now Dean had to pretend he’d never been worried.

“Hey, she’s up. You ready to meet your daughter?”

Castiel’s eyes were shiny, and he visibly swallowed but nodded. “I don’t…” he had the clothes he’d come in in his lap, and Dean immediately understood why he wasn’t dressed yet.

“Yeah, we’re just gonna burn those,” Dean said. “You’ll fit in my clothes, I think.”

He did. He still didn’t let Dean get a good look at his back, but he had an easier time pulling on a button-down shirt than he had taking the shirt off last night. Dean liked the sight of the alpha in his clothes; it hit him with a visceral jerk in the stomach, and he took some time to savor the sight. When he finally met Cas’s eyes again there was a hint of the alpha Dean had first met in the slight smirk on his face, but Castiel didn’t say anything.

When they moved to the door Castiel got nervous again, and he went pale and looked kind of sick as Dean opened the door. “It’ll be okay,” Dean murmured, low and in a tone designed to soothe alphas, and let his fingers graze over Castiel’s arm. At least he didn’t flinch from Dean’s touch.

Reassured, Dean led them to the kitchen. “Hey, Claire,” he said, keeping his voice calm and quiet, to hopefully model for Claire, “there’s someone here who wants to meet you.”

She was out of her chair in an instant, but froze and shyly did not come closer when Castiel appeared behind Dean. Dean stepped out of the way and let them get a look at, and the scent of, each other. There was a lot of staring, and just went Dean was thinking he should do something, Castiel carefully kneeled down. If Dean hadn’t been looking for the wince he wouldn’t have caught it.

“Hello, Claire,” Castiel said.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly shy for what had to be the first time in her life.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Castiel said, still careful.

Dean, for some reason, expected Claire to parrot back the words as if she were a polite, proper child. So he should have been less surprised when instead Claire said, “Where have you been? Daddy missed you.”

Dean didn’t know if he wanted to hug her or shake her. Hugging would win out, as it always did, of course. He could feel Cas looking at him, but Dean was too busy inspecting his kitchen floor to look up.

“I missed him too,” Cas said, in a low voice Dean had to strain to catch, close as they were. “And you. I missed you, too.”

“You didn’t know me,” Claire said.

“I missed you anyway,” Cas said. He sounded as choked up as Dean felt. “I’m sorry— I’m sorry I was gone so long. I didn’t want to be.”

“Daddy said you were at the war.”

“I was at the war,” Castiel continued in his quiet voice. He’d gained some control back, but it sounded fragile. Dean finally felt he could look up and watch them. Claire was standing with her arms folded and hip cocked. Bossy. “And the other side captured me. I was a prisoner for awhile, and they only just let me go.”

Claire’s arms dropped. “You were in prison?” When Castiel nodded, she whispered, “Why were you in prison?”

Now Dean did jump in. “That’s what happens when the other side captures you in war, kiddo. They don’t want to just let you go back and fight against them again.”

“Oh,” Claire nodded slowly, thinking it through. Then she turned to look at Dean, frowning. “You said he had wings,” she accused.

She turned back to Cas, and Dean quickly jumped in again. “Claire, let’s let your father eat his breakfast, okay? He hasn’t had any yet, unlike you.”

“Oh, okay. You can sit by me,” she tossed off at Cas before skipping back to the table.

Dean pretended not to notice as Cas blinked away tears and carefully sat next to Claire. The table was round, so it’s not like Castiel had a lot of other choices of place to sit, but the invitation, Dean understood, was everything.

He hurried to get a bowl of porridge in front of Cas, and then coffee and honey for the porridge. He cut some more bread and swatted Claire’s hand away from it, giving her her own porridge before finally grabbing a bowl for himself.

Dean sat next to Cas and across from Claire, watching as she narrated in random kid chat how she liked her breakfast and how Cas ought to eat his. Cas took her advice very seriously, and Dean had to bite his tongue and look down so no one saw the tears in his eyes.

Twenty-four hours ago, he’d been contemplating the end of his life as he knew it. And he supposed that had happened but in a completely different way. It was surreal, having Cas actually here instead of a phantom.

It wasn’t any more real after breakfast when Dean did the dishes and sent Claire and Castiel outside to play. Castiel lay in the grass and let Claire tell him what were no doubt long, nonsensical stories, and bring him bits of flowers and plants and who knows what she found in their yard. Cas seemed to content to watch his daughter and feel the sun on his face.

Dean scrubbed the porridge pot and let a few tears escape.

He should tell Sam, not to mention Bobby and Ellen and everyone else, but now he was strangely reluctant to share Cas with anyone else. He wanted to keep them in this safe, dreamlike bubble where only the three of them existed.

He also thought that shoving Castiel at a bunch of strangers who’d all be intensely curious about him might be a bit much right now. Better to let Castiel recover a little first, Dean justified to himself. Yeah, it was for Cas’s sake, really.

Dean made a ridiculously elaborate lunch for them, mostly because it gave him something to do but also because it gave him the chance to show off. He didn’t have a great variety of ingredients, but they’d gone to the market the day before, so at least what he had was fresh. He would have to go buy some more meat for Cas, though. He looked like he needed it.

Dean threw a pie together while the potatoes cooked; he would have to make more bread this afternoon, too. Maybe two loaves, now that there were three of them eating it. Dean contemplated killing a chicken for dinner to feed Castiel as he mashed the potatoes. He had summer sausage and peas, too, and cheese to go with it.

Claire whooped when Dean called them in to eat. “And there’s pie,” she told Cas. “Is it because Papa’s here?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, feeling suddenly shy, glancing up at Cas before looking back down at his plate. “Because of that.”

Castiel complimented Dean’s cooking in his quiet voice, and he was yawning before the pie was finished. “Go take a nap,” Dean shooed him. “I’ll save you some.”

Castiel still hesitated, taking a long look at them from the doorway, but finally he went off to lay down.

Cas slept for three hours. When he woke he rushed into the kitchen, and Dean smelled his distress before he saw him, long enough that Dean was already on his feet by the time Cas stumbled in. “Cas? Alpha?”

Cas’s eyes were wide and staring, but he didn’t seem able to fix them on anything. Dean held his hands out and tried to project a calming, welcoming scent. “Alpha,” he cooed and slid closer as slowly as he could manage, while his eyes darted around wildly, looking for Claire. It seemed like she was in the middle of her own nap, though, and Dean could only hope she stayed that way.

He could tell the instant his scent broke through to Castiel; the alpha froze before turning his head toward Dean and scenting obviously in his direction. Dean bared his neck and continued shuffling toward him. Castiel’s scent was calming down, little by little, and when Dean was close enough to grab, Castiel did so, burying his face in Dean’s neck. His hands on Dean’s arms were clenched hard but Dean didn’t mind.

“Shh, it’s all right,” Dean managed to move one of his arms enough that Cas let go with that hand and clutched at the back of his shirt instead. Dean ran his newly freed hand along Cas’s hair, softly at first, and then letting his fingers dig in as Cas leaned into him. “It’s okay, Cas,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

Castiel’s panic was calming down in great leaps and bounds, now. Dean let him scent as long as he needed, just gently stroking Cas’s hair and sometimes grazing down a rock hard bicep or very lightly tracing his back.

Finally, Cas shuddered in his arms and pulled himself away with a tiny, wounded noise that ripped a hole in Dean’s heart. When Cas realized he was still gripping onto Dean, he quickly released him and took a step away, so their bodies were no longer in contact.

It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did.

“I’m sorry.” Cas’s voice was low, even for him, rough with sleep and fear and he looked at the floor somewhere to Dean’s right. He curled in on himself, and even flinched back when Dean started to reach for him.

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean said, focused on keeping his voice low and soft. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do.” Cas’s scent went rancid again, full of despair instead of fear. “I’m sorry Dean. I’m not… I’m broken. If you want me to leave, I will.”

Dean physically recoiled before he could help himself. The mere suggestion had his panic response kick in. “No!” Cas flinched when Dean raised his voice and Dean hurried to press himself back against Cas, getting as close to his mate’s scent as he could. “No, Cas. Don’t-- please don’t do that.”

Castiel gradually relaxed against Dean. He didn’t put his arms around him, but he did rest his head against Dean’s and nuzzled down to his shoulder. 

“We don’t want you to go, Cas,” Dean murmured, glad he didn’t have to meet Cas’s eyes when he talked about this. “Broken or not, we need you here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas whispered. He shuddered lightly. “Or hurt Claire.”

“You haven’t,” Dean countered, voice stronger. “And I wouldn’t let you hurt Claire. If you don’t trust yourself, trust me.”

He felt Cas nod, then he turned and scented Dean again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head, then hesitated. “Not yet,” he said. “I don’t know when. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Dean said. “Whenever you want to talk, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. “I should have said it before.”

“For what?” Dean was honestly baffled. “Also, I’m pretty sure you did.”

“For waiting. For waiting so long. For having a child on your own. For—”

“Hey,” Dean gave his mate a friendly jostle, since Cas seemed like he was spiraling again. “You don’t have to thank me for that. That’s just… that’s just what I’d do. You’re my mate. Of course I waited. And Claire? Buddy, I didn’t really have a choice.” Dean was grinning as he said it but Cas flinched away again. Of course. Shit.

“No, I meant… I just meant that she’s my pup, of course I took care of her. I just did what I had to do, it wasn’t… it’s not anything special. You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Cas finally met his eyes again. “It was special, Dean. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but it can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t, sometimes,” Dean agreed. “But hey, I have my family here.” He reached out and squeezed Cas’s shoulder. “It wasn’t anything like what you went through. And it definitely wasn’t all bad. There was a lot that was really good. So you don’t need to worry about what happened in the past, and you don’t need to apologize for anything. And now,” Dean squeezed his shoulder before letting go, “you’ve got some pie to eat.”

Claire found them still in the kitchen after her nap, but they were sitting at the table like normal people. Cas was through most of his pie, and Claire came sniffing after it immediately. “Claire, that’s your father’s pie,” Dean warned, and got up to get her a glass of water.

Of course by the time Dean turned back around, Claire was pressed against Cas’s side and had got the fork out of his hand and was finishing the last of it.

“Claire!”

“He said I could,” she pouted.

“I don’t mind,” Cas said.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sorry, she gets that from me,” Dean smiled at Cas and gave Claire a look as he took the plate away to the sink for washing.

“I remember,” Cas said, his voice scratchy. He had to stop and clear his throat before starting again. “I remember. You and pie.”

Dean felt himself flushing a little. He didn’t know if Cas was referring to Dean talking about pie too much or when he’d licked blueberry filling off of Cas’s chest.

“Well,” he hurried to say, “you can have extra, if you want. She can’t.”

“Sorry,” Cas said, seeming to shrink in and putting down his fork as quietly as possible.

Dean almost smacked himself in the face. “No, I didn’t mean… I mean, it’s fine! Totally fine! I was just asking if you wanted another piece! And Claire would ask for more but any more will ruin her appetite, that’s all.” Oh for fuck’s sake.

“I’m full, thank you,” Cas said, still quiet, still not meeting Dean’s eye or even raising his head. “I think I will go outside again for a while, if that’s all right?”

“Yes,” Dean said, feeling miserable and trying to keep it out of his voice and failing. “Whatever you want, Alpha.”

Claire had pulled away from Cas a bit, and was frowning as she watched him. For once she didn’t say anything though. Dean and Claire watched as Castiel slipped silently outside, to go sit in the sunshine.

“He’s sad,” Claire said, peering out the window. “Daddy, were the enemy people mean to him?”

“Yeah, Claire-bear,” Dean sighed. “I think they were.”

Claire scowled, a fierce little thing he loved. “We should fight them.”

“If they come here, we will,” Dean said.

~*~* ~*~

The bees made a gentle buzzing sound as they danced back and forth. It was a nice, soothing sound, quiet and safe. The fresh air smelled unbelievably sweet, still tinted faintly with mate and pup, even though he was outside alone. The best part, though, was the sun. The heat warmed him, places he’d forgotten could feel warm, and it eased the cramps of his muscles and the painful throbbing in his back. The phantom wing pains-- well, those were still there, and there was no way sunlight could ease them, but much like the scent of his mate, it helped everything else and made the pain more bearable.

There had been times when fresh air and sunshine seemed like too much to ever hope for again, times they seemed like things conjured from dreams rather than things the rest of the world was taking for granted. Sunlight, like a human True Mate, felt more like something that not only couldn’t happen to him again, but had never happened in the first place.

Castiel opened his eyes, looked at the wild yard and the forest beyond. He was here, not there. Here, and all of it was true after all: sunlight and fresh air and Dean. And the pup, Claire.

When he was here before, for that one improbable week, they hadn’t gone into the back yard very much, so it was almost like a new space. Not that there were tons of memories cascading down upon him everywhere he looked inside: he hadn’t seen a lot that wasn’t the inside of Dean’s bedroom, to be honest. But the cottage was smaller than he remembered, and everywhere it was clear he didn’t belong there, that he’d been less than a ghost, for all he’d left behind. Castiel felt better outside, with the sun, anyway. It smelled nice inside, like home and family and mate, but he’d had nothing but a roof over his head for the last four years and it was nice to have the option of staring up into infinity. It almost felt like he could take off into it, lift off the earth again and soar. Not away-- he didn’t want to go away from here-- just from the ground.

But he couldn’t, and he never would again.

His wings ached. They were cut off and ripped out, but still they ached. He tried to stretch them but there was nothing to stretch. He couldn’t wrap them around his family to keep them safe, would never have them groomed by his mate. The only mercy was that Claire didn’t have wings; he wouldn’t have to stay behind and watch her soar away.

He felt guilty for that. Castiel might, in other circumstances, have been sorry she didn’t have wings, but for this little bit, he’d be selfish about it. He would be able to keep her safe on the ground, and the air was not something that would happen to them.

It was what it was, and Castiel was overwhelmed with enough things. Reality was more than enough; no need to start thinking about what-might-have-beens.

Besides, not having wings made one decision simple. This would be his home now, no need to angst over whether he should move his family back to the angel capital. There would have been no place for them there, and now there was no place for him there anymore, either.

In the morning the cool grass had felt good on his battered back.

He heard Claire come out again-- it wasn’t hard, she let the door slam shut behind her, followed by an annoyed shout from Dean. Cas smiled, his heart lifting, letting him brush away most-- not all, but most-- of the dark clinging to him from the demon prison. It had no place here. His new life was here, the dream of which had kept him alive, and sane, and given him a respite from the darkness and the torture. And now here it was.

Claire did not run right for him but picked her way around circuitously, coming closer and then backing off again. Castiel sat with his eyes closed, tracking her movements with his heightened senses of smell and hearing, waiting patiently for her to make up her mind, or make her own way to him.

Finally she stopped and stood in one place, watching him. He waited. “Are you asleep?” she finally asked.

He opened his eyes, but did not look directly at her yet. “No,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watching the bees.”

She crept a few steps closer. They’d done a similar courtship this morning. “Can I watch?”

“Of course.” Now he looked at her, trying to show he was friendly, but Castiel had never been around a human child before-- even one half-human-- he’d been around few enough angel children. He didn’t really know what to do with them, Claire in particular, and marveled at Dean’s easy way with her.

But of course; Castiel had known her less than a day. It generally took him a long time to warm up to people; Dean being the exception. He looked at her and smiled; she gave him a bit of side eye but in the end came and sat down next to him.

“What are the bees doing?” she asked after about ten seconds of watching them.

Castiel smiled again, this one for himself, and quietly explained how honey was made. She seemed to be following closely, although he wasn’t sure how much she understood. In his mind’s eye he had always pictured a baby in Dean’s arms, regardless of how the years had passed. It had been something of a shock to find this fully-formed small person, and he wasn’t at all clear how she worked or what she was capable of.

She was his pup, though. He could smell it on her, and feel the parts of her that were angel. She might not have wings but she was part of him, and it made him happier than he had expected to see it. She had his eyes, too, that was undeniable.

“Do you live here now?” she asked, after a spell of watching the bees.

“Yes,” he said. “If you will allow it.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Up to me?”

“I need your permission,” he agreed.

She looked at him closely, and he stared back. “Okay,” she said, and Cas tried to keep the wave of relief out of his scent. “That’s good. The other alphas will stay away now.”

All the sun and light and warmth went out of him, like a cold hand squeezed his heart (and he knew to compare it to). “What other alphas?”

“The mean ones,” she said. “The one who scares Daddy.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if that answer was better or worse than he expected. “Someone scares Daddy?”

“I chased him with a knife.” Claire puffed up her chest with pride. “Well. I was going to.” Castiel knew he should praise her bravery, but all his words felt lost, the way they had been for the second year of captivity, when he’d been in solitary too long.

Instead he reached out and put a careful, light hand on her shining blonde hair. When she didn’t object, he stroked it. “You took care of Daddy well,” he finally managed, at a whisper.

“I know,” Claire said, pleased with herself.

~*~*~*~

When Castiel and Claire came back inside, they found Dean cleaning the living room. Castiel stopped and watched him for a long moment. In angel society, it had been in fashion to compare omegas to the moon, but Castiel had always thought of Dean as the sun. He was all the light and heat in the universe, and Castiel orbited around him, helplessly, ceaselessly.

“Oh!” Dean jumped when he saw them. “Yikes, guys, make some noise. I never thought I’d be saying that to Claire, but there you go. I’ll get you matching bells.”

“Okay,” Claire said happily, consumed with the thought of a bell to ring.

“Apologies,” Castiel said. His voice sounded uncomfortably hoarse, and he watched Dean wince a little hearing it.

“Claire, go wash your hands,” Dean ordered. “I can see the dirt from here.” He looked at Castiel, and they remained silent as Claire bounced out of the room, possibly to splash herself with water at some point.

“How are you?” Dean asked quietly, when they were alone.

Castiel stared at Dean. He wanted, on the one hand, to watch the way he moved, keep him in the sunshine and safe. To watch him with Claire was a pleasure, and he liked to watch them together, the way they interacted, the comfort and love, even if Dean was scolding Claire. It was nothing like what he’d grown up with, or even much seen in angel culture, and it was both fascinating to observe and it made him touched and proud, that he had made some small contribution to creating it.

On the other hand, he wanted to push Dean against the nearest surface and rub his own scent all over him, cover his omega, his mate, and get covered in his scent in return. Well, that was a good sign, Castiel decided. He already, after less than 24 hours, felt more alive than he had since he’d last walked out the door of this cottage, 5 years before.

“You ok, Cas?” Dean asked. “She’s not… I mean, kids are pretty rambunctious, and I guess since it’s just been us I’ve kind of let her get a bit wild…”

“She’s perfect,” Cas blurted. “She’s...I couldn’t have imagined. Dean, I...thank you. Again. I wish...I wish it could have been different. And I hope, now, that it will be. If...if that’s what you want.”

Dean was giving him a funny smile, Castiel noticed when he finished. “What?”

“I think that’s the most you’ve talked since you’ve been home. And Cas...of course it’ll be different now. Why do you...do you think I wouldn’t want you to stay?”

Castiel almost missed the rest of what Dean was saying, he was so distracted by Dean saying he was home. The word felt like it was resonating through him, reaching inside and warming a part even the sunlight couldn’t touch. But Dean was still talking.

“I mean, unless… do you have to do anything? Go report back to the angel city or...or see your family?”

Castiel thought of the people who had raised him, his brothers and sisters. “Some of them I would like to see,” Castiel admitted. “Someday. But not enough to want to leave here. And--” his shoulders twitched, trying to heft his lost-and-gone-forever wings-- “I will not be reporting to my old garrison, or my superiors. Let them continue to think me lost or dead.”

Dean’s smile was bigger now, and Castiel felt like Dean’s hope was blazing at him across the room. “So… you’re definitely staying, then? Not going anywhere?”

“There is no where else I want to be,” Castiel agreed. Promised, even.

Dean grinned, and suddenly the distance between them was no longer acceptable. Castiel felt like his grace was reaching for Dean, like Dean’s soul was reaching for him. They took a few swift steps toward each other-- and then Claire burst back into the room, water flying everywhere, somehow, and careened between them, bouncing off Castiel to throw herself against Dean’s legs. “I’m cleeeeeeeean!” she beamed.

“And you couldn’t find a towel first? You had to come use me?” Dean sighed. He shot an apologetic look at Castiel, but Cas just smiled, content to watch them together. He and Dean would have time. They had lots of time now. And Claire would go to bed early.

~*~

Dean was getting used to Cas staring at him. It still felt unreal, and he had to keep reminding himself that it was true, that his mate really was here, returned at last. He’d even whisper the words out loud, just to try and make them seem more real: “Cas is back. My alpha is home.” They still felt strange on his tongue, but they were very slightly starting to feel familiar, even if the concept was a bit of a shock. He tried to hide that he still jumped a little when he turned around and found Cas there, lurking in a doorway more often than not. Cas seemed to be relaxing around them a little, and that was good.

Dean had not been prepared for how his heart would feel at the sight of Cas and Claire together. The way Cas listened to all her babble so seriously, or the look on his face when he just watched her. Dean kept tearing up, which normally would have annoyed him, but it was impossible to be annoyed at anything today, other than perhaps a little frustration when Claire interrupted. He was selfish, and wanted both of them to himself, but he got all melty when watching them together, too. He was just really fucking confused-- Dean didn’t think he’d ever felt so much at once, not even when he had first met and mated Cas.

Dean made stew for dinner again, mainly so he could stretch it out more, make something to fill Cas up. It was definitely nice to have someone else there to hold Claire’s attention while he worked. It was weirdly peaceful but a little unsettling to be left alone so long. He kept panicking that he hadn’t heard from Claire in too long, but she was always followed around by Cas-- or she was following him around, it was hard to tell which. They came inside when it started to get dark, and Dean listened to Claire give Cas a tour of her tiny room-- mostly introducing him to the various rag dolls she’d collected from Dean, Jess, and Ellen.

_Her father._ That wasn’t just Cas, that was Claire’s actual father. Castiel would be here from now on, he’d even said so. It was wild. Every piece of this, Dean was struggling to wrap his head around.

They ate all around the table again, staring at each other. Even Claire. It maybe should’ve felt awkward, but it didn’t. Maybe because there were so many other things to feel. Maybe because they were just a family that stared a lot.

Here they were-- Dean looked at the three of them, finally together-- a family. He assumed at some point he’d get used to this. He’d give it another 20 years or so.

Castiel’s head started nodding before he’d finished his third bowl of stew, and Claire didn’t look much better. In the interest of not dealing with an overtired little girl, he got both of them up to tuck Claire into bed.

“Tell me a story,” she demanded, as usual.

“Which story would you like to hear?” Dean asked, moving to sit on her bed.

“No,” she said. “New Daddy.”

_New!_ That little… He looked at Cas. “You don’t have to,” he said. “If you’re not up for it.” Cas hesitated so long that Dean turned to Claire and started to say “Your father’s too tired tonight--” but Cas interrupted his gentle let-her-down-easy tone.

“I can,” he said. He moved a little awkwardly, to the side of her bed. Not that there was far to go, the room was tiny. It had been hilarious when Sam had outgrown it.

“I’ll tell you an angel story,” he said. Claire looked up at him with wide eyes, and Dean had a feeling all of this was going to be exciting enough to keep her awake, rather than put her to sleep.

Dean didn’t know any angel stories, and sat on the floor in the doorway to hear it, leaving the honor of sitting on the bed to the storyteller.

“Once in Paradise lived an angel with shining wings,” Castiel said. “The Angel of Shining Wings loved best to fly through the sky, letting his wings flash through the air and bounce back the light to those on the ground. Many of those on the ground welcomed the flashing lights, for they knew it was an angel. Others, however, could not see the angel and only saw the lights, and they became afraid.”

“Like lightning?” Claire whispered.

“Yes,” Castiel said, “but without any noise to accompany it.”

“That doesn’t sound scary,” Claire said.

Dean clicked his tongue at her. “You’re supposed to be going to sleep.”

“I am,” she said.

“It’s not scary to us,” Cas continued, ignoring the last exchange. “But we know it’s the Angel of Shining Wings, don’t we? These other people didn’t know that, only that flashes of light were in the sky.”

“Okay,” Claire said, but she didn’t seem to think much of these other people.

“One day the other people decided they wanted to put a stop to the flashing lights in the sky, and decided to hunt whatever was the cause of them. So their best and lightest hunters climbed into the treetops, to wait and find out what made the flashes of light in the sky. They waited two days before the Angel of Shining Wings came by. They saw only the flashing lights, and could not see the Angel of Shining Wings to recognize him, nor hunt him. Finally one hunter, an omega allowed on the hunt because he was light, called out: ‘Flashing lights, go away! You upset everyone and we don’t want you here!’

“The Angel of Shining Wings was very surprised to hear this, but he flew away and never returned. The other people did not know this, however, and spent many long years looking up, searching the sky for flashing lights which never reappeared.”

When Castiel had been silent long enough it was clear the story was over, Dean couldn’t help himself from saying “What?”

“I don’t understand,” Claire said. “What happened to the Angel of Shining Wings?”

“He flew away.” Castiel frowned a little.

“Is there a moral?” Dean asked.

“Of course,” Castiel said. He looked back and forth at them, and then continued. “The moral is that the other people did not accept the gift that was offered them, so they lost it.”

“What gift?” Dean asked. “The flashing lights?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied.

“That doesn’t seem like a great gift,” Dean couldn’t help saying. Claire nodded. Cas looked at a loss.

“So the Other People won?” Claire asked.

“No, not at all,” Cas said. “They lost.”

“But they got what they wanted,” Dean pointed out. “The lights went away. And the angel survived, so, I guess everyone won?”

“No. They spent their lives in fear, even after sending the Angel of Shining Wings away, because they never stopped looking for the lights.” Poor Castiel was looking like he’d just realized what living with humans for the rest of his life was going to be like, and that looked overwhelmed, so Dean took over.

“Okay, Claire-bear, thank your father for the story, and go to sleep.”

“Thank you, New Daddy,” she yawned. “But it would be better if the Angel of Shining Wings killed a bunch of people.”

“Claire!” Dean groaned. He ushered Cas off the bed and kissed Claire’s forehead again for good measure. He pulled the curtain shut behind them and used a hand on Cas’s arm to direct him to Dean’s- to their-- bedroom. “Sorry about her, Cas. She’s so bloodthirsty. I don’t know where she gets it from.”

“She’s an alpha,” Cas shrugged, and yawned himself, unaware he’d just left Dean completely at a loss for words.

“She can’t be an alpha,” he fumbled out. “She’s a girl.”

“Angels have female alphas,” Cas said.

“She’s--”

“Half angel. She’s an alpha. Can’t you smell it?”

Dean shook his head, mind reeling. “Not yet.”

Claire was an alpha. His _little girl_ was an alpha. “That… that makes a lot of sense,” he muttered.

Castiel was yawning and clearly listing towards the bed. Dean hurried to help him take his shirt off. Cas still appeared more emaciated than not, pale where his clothes had covered him from the sunlight today. His face and hands had picked up a bit of color today, at least.

But still, that was a lot of alpha skin on display, and this close Dean was swimming in his mate’s scent again. He felt a flicker of fire in his belly.

To distract himself, Dean asked “Can I see your back?”

Cas flinched and looked down. “Not yet,” he said, so quiet Dean almost couldn’t hear him.

“Okay,” Dean said easily. “As long as it doesn’t need to be treated.” He thought Cas flinched again and definitely looked a bit guilty, but Dean didn’t press the issue-- not this time, with Cas swaying on his feet. On the plus side, Cas did not request a new shirt to sleep in, simply slid into bed. Without turning his back to Dean, true, but then Dean was immediately distracted by the sight of Cas in his bed.

He had to leave him there, though, and go out to wash the dishes and clean up from dinner. Cas mumbled some sleepy protest, but Dean put out the light and hushed him. He hurried through the dishes, eager to get to bed himself, though not feeling particularly tired.

When he crawled into bed next to Cas, his mate made a sleepy, contented grumble and turned towards Dean, settling in where he could scent him. Dean pressed close to his alpha’s chest, letting the feel of their skin touching soothe him. Finally, finally, finally.

~*~

This time, they did not wake sweetly in the morning. This time, Castiel jolted awake in the middle of the night with such violence, flailing, and screaming, that Dean was thrown to the floor. “Ow,” he said, when Castiel had gone quiet.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was full of horror, and Dean heard him scramble to the side of the bed. A moment later he was staring down at Dean. “Dean!”

In his haste Cas became tangled in the blankets, and Dean got to his knees to help untangle him. Cas slid to the floor next to him anyway.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked immediately, reaching out his hand but freezing before he touched Dean. Dean reached up and took Cas’s hand, bringing it down between them but holding onto it.

“Nah,” he said.

“And yet I seem to have kicked you out of bed.”

“Are you_you_ okay?” Dean brushed him off. “That sounded...bad.” He felt Cas go stiff next to him.

“I apologize. That… I told you I was broken. That I’m not a proper alpha…”

“Hey, cut that crap out,” Dean said, not unkindly. “You’re _our_ alpha, and we have you back, and that’s what matters.”

“Oh no,” Cas moaned. “Claire. Do you think there’s any chance she didn’t hear that?”

Dean winced. “She can sleep through a lot but I don’t think she could’ve slept through that. I’ll go check on her. You get back in bed.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said again, sounding miserable.

“Hey- you have nothing to apologize for,” Dean said firmly, picking himself up off the floor. “We all have nightmares. You have no more control over them than anyone else. Unless-- do you?” he asked, as the thought struck him.

“No,” Cas said wryly, but he got back in bed.

“There you are then,” Dean said. “I’ll worry about Claire. You get some rest.”

Dean carefully shut the door behind him, and took the about-two-steps down the hallway to Claire’s room. “Claire?” he whispered, pulling the curtain back slightly to peer in.

She wasn’t on the bed, and the covers had been thrown back in a tumble, the sheets stark white underneath. For a moment his heart stopped, but then he realized that he actually had a pretty good idea of where she might be. “Claire?” he called again, a bit louder, and got down to look under the bed.

Claire was a dark blob and a glitter of eyes. “Daddy,” she whispered. He couldn’t tell if she was crying. _Alpha,_ he remembered, marveling anew.

“Hey, Claire, it’s okay. You can come out of there. Your…new daddy… you know what, let’s try Papa. Your Papa had a bad dream, that’s all. You know what that’s like.”

”A bad dream?”

“Come on out. It’s okay.”

After another moment of thought, she crawled out into his arms. He hugged her tightly. “I go see him,” she announced, and there was nothing for it but to pick her up and carry her down the hall.

“I’m sure it will help if you kiss him goodnight,” Dean said.

He still knocked lightly on the door and peered in first. Cas was sitting up in bed, back pressed to carefully arranged pillows. “Someone wants to kiss you goodnight,” Dean said, coming in with Claire. Cas looked so overwhelmed Dean almost took her out again, but Cas’s scent smelled a lot of relief, and he held out his arms for Claire, so Dean carried the pup to the bed.

He was tempted to let Claire sleep between them and have all his family in one place, warm and safe and scents blending together. But Cas’s nightmare had shown that would still be a bad idea for now, so instead he leaned Claire down so she could press a clumsy kiss to Cas’s cheek.

“Ouchie,” she said, since Cas hadn’t shaved in a bit.

“Sorry,” he whispered in his hoarse voice. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, either.”

“Okay, Papa.” She patted his cheek. Castiel was clearly on the verge of tears, so Dean took Claire back to her room and spent a while tucking her in.

“Thank you, Pup,” he whispered. “You’re a good girl and you helped Papa.”

When he got back to the bedroom, Cas was laying down again but Dean could tell from his breathing that he was still awake. Dean said only “She’s asleep,” and that in a whisper, before crawling into bed and laying next to his mate. As soon as he was settled in, he felt Cas’s hand touch his under the blankets. An apology, or a thank you— it seemed like a bit of both, based on Cas’s scent. Dean squeezed his hand. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“I don’t know that it is,” Cas whispered, but he rolled to scent at Dean’s neck. Dean wanted to wrap his arms around him but wasn’t sure about his back, so he just put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and left it there. Cas did not seem to mind it, and fell asleep curled into Dean.

Dean found sleep harder to return to, but he didn’t mind lying awake so much, listening to Cas breathe next to him.

In the morning, everyone slept a little late and looked a little groggy at breakfast. Cas was in Dean’s clothes again, and as much as Dean liked seeing that, they would have to get him some of his own eventually. Dean’s wardrobe was barely adequate for him, let alone two people. He brought this up, a little hesitant.

“We would have to go into town?” Cas asked, and Dean didn’t think he was imagining the dread in his voice.

“I can sew them but I need more material. Hey, then you can meet my family,” Dean pointed out. Castiel looked like Dean had just suggested he ride off to battle. “They’ll like you,” he said, and tried to convey with facial expressions that he would kick their asses if they didn’t. They _would_ like Cas, he was sure, but there was also definitely going to be a lot of questions. Questions that hadn’t even been answered for Dean yet, some of them, so he’d have to convince everyone to back off for a while, too.

Convince his family to be friendly and welcoming _and_ back off— ok, maybe Cas had a point about this being a battle. Well, ass-kicking was definitely staying on the table.

“We need to get more food, too,” he said, to sweeten the deal. “Anything you’d like to eat.” Castiel looked adorable grumpy and grumbly, but Dean took it as a win.

There was something else, but he didn’t want to bring it up just yet. He’d woken up this morning feeling achy and a little nauseous. With his mate gone, Dean had only gone into heat once a year, and it had a lot more to do with his stupid body trying to attract his absent mate’s attention and draw him back than a true strong breeding heat. But his mate was back now, and his body was gearing up. They were just lucky he was getting a warning and Dean hadn’t gone into spontaneous heat like he had when he and Cas had met. He had time to get Claire to Sam and Jess.

And maybe soon Claire would finally have a little brother or sister. Dean found himself grinning at the thought. It would be so different this time, with his mate here.

“If we’re going into town,” Cas said, still sounding more like they were heading to a funeral rather than Dean’s stupid market village, “I should take a bath.”

“You got it!” Dean said, so full of happiness it bubbled over. For the first time in… ever, Dean was looking forward to a heat. His mate was home. And by this afternoon, everyone would _know._

Dean badly wanted a bath, too, but the little tin tub wasn’t big enough for both of them at once, and Dean decided to wait until they came home from the market. He did bathe Claire, and ordered her to stay inside once she was clean. And he insisted on helping Cas bathe. It was time.

“Let me see your back now, Alpha,” he murmured. Dean had moved the tub into their bedroom for privacy. Cas hesitated, but something despondent crossed his face, making Dean’s heart ache, before it settled into a set mask. He let Dean take off his shirt without cringing away. Dean understood, when Cas turned around, why he’d hidden it. He was also angry though: “Cas, some of these are infected!”

“Those will be where the wings were,” Cas said, voice almost empty but for an undercurrent of pain that was more in his scent than his voice. His back was a mass of scar tissue. He’d been cut or whipped or caned multiple times, over many years. Some scars were white, some pink, some red— some massive. One enraging, thick band ran from the nape of Cas’s neck to his waist. The worst by far, however, were the twin scars where his wings had been.

The joints were gone; someone must have carved into his back to cut the bones out. What was left was a mass of scar tissue, vaguely star-shaped, if stars were spun by spiders, red and sore looking, puffy and hot to the touch when Dean dared to press his fingertips to them.

“Oh, Cas,” he whispered, and that was what made Cas flinch from him. “Well,” Dean struggled for a more detached tone, “you’re lucky Jess knows some healing. She can help.”

“Jess is…” Cas was searching his memory, so Dean helped him.

“Jess is Sam’s mate.”

“Sam’s mate,” Cas repeated dully. “Of course.”

“It’s all right,” Dean said. “We need to leave Claire with them anyway.”

“What?” Cas turned in alarm. “Why?”

“Scent me, alpha,” Dean said in response, and pulled Cas close so he could. He could tell the exact moment Cas got it. The alpha froze, inhaled deeply, and a second later had his hands on Dean’s arms to pull him close and scent him more thoroughly. A low, pleased rumble came from the alpha’s chest.

“You’re in heat.”

“Soon,” Dean agreed, his head still rolled back. “Tonight or tomorrow. So we’ll leave the pup with Sam and Jess for a few days. They won’t mind.”

He had to coax Cas to let go of him and get in the bathtub, but Cas’s face sinking into the hot water was worth it. “I should’ve done this yesterday,” Castiel admitted. Dean carefully poured hot water over Cas’s hair and scrubbed water and soap into it. He washed Cas’s hair and shoulders, and very carefully rinsed the sores where his wings had been. Dean whispered apologies as Cas shivered in pain.

He scrubbed Cas’s chest, draping himself over the alpha, which Dean at least enjoyed. He moved to wash Cas’s legs, which had their own scars but none that looked recent or raw. Dean kept his eyes averted from Cas’s genitals until there was nothing left to wash.

Dean had to clear his throat. “Do you want me to or…?”

“I can,” Cas said, after also clearing his throat. “In the interest of making it into the village some time today,” he added, which made Dean feel warm and he was sure he was blushing.

When Cas was finished, Dean helped him out of the water and left him to get dressed while he dumped the dirty bathwater. He thought the water looked a little red-tinted and wondered if Cas’s wounds bleeding was good or bad. Bleeding seemed bad, but perhaps it would carry the infection out. He’d mention it to Jess.

Once they were all dressed, Dean took his market basket in the crook of his elbow, filled with a change of clothes for Claire, and took Claire in one hand and his alpha in the other. Cas looked stiff and blank, which Dean interpreted as nerves. Dean squeezed his hand and Cas squeezed back. They set off, and eventually Dean let Claire run ahead, as long as she stayed in sight. He had never felt comfortable allowing her even that much freedom before, but knowing she would have traces of her alpha father’s scent on her as a warning was wonderfully reassuring, even though Dean hated that he wasn’t enough to protect her.

They went round the big bend in the road and the village began to come into view. It was very quiet, not being the big market day and in the middle of the morning besides. All the early shoppers were finished, and the late not yet started. So it was some time before they passed anyone, well past the first cluster of houses and even past the smithy, although they could hear him at work in his shed. Dean noticed when the first pedestrian did a double take, but he carried on as if he’d seen nothing. Inside, though, Dean was gloating. His alpha was real after all, and he had returned.

Dean nodded at everyone but did not stop to chat, enjoying the shock on their faces but not interested in having the same conversation twenty times. He’d tell a select few and let the village gossip network do the rest. It worked fast enough. And it didn’t let him down this time.

By the time they reached the village square, Sam himself was marching up to meet them. He looked like he was on a mission and Dean rolled his eyes. He felt Cas lagging a bit behind, and he wasn’t sure if Cas remembered his description of Sam and had guessed who it was, or if he was just alarmed by the huge, angry man heading for them.

“Unca Sam!” Claire shouted, running for him.

Cas balked even further. “_That’s_ Sam?” Cas said, and that answered that question.

“It’s okay,” Dean said, squeezing Cas’s hand again. “He’s just an overgrown puppy, really.” Cas straightened his shoulders, though it must have pained him, and Dean prepared himself for an entertaining round of alpha posturing. Alphas were so ridiculous, honestly. That was one nice thing about being an omega, anyway: not needing to jostle for status every time you met someone.

Dean shifted a little closer to Cas, leaning in to make it clear he was with this man by choice.

“Unca Sam! Papa’s here! Look! Do you see him? Daddy says I’m going to stay with you and Auntie Jess for a few days! Did you bring Bones?” Watching Claire run unintentional interference was hilarious, as was Sam’s attempts to dodge around her to get to Dean without stepping on her.

“Dean!” he shouted, making a fucking scene of course, “What’s going on? Who is this?” He finished with a glare at Cas. Cas did not glare back but met Sam’s gaze evenly and without looking away.

Dean _did_ glare a bit. “Claire told you,” Dean said, as carelessly as he could manage when wound this tight.

“This is—”

“My alpha.” Dean couldn’t help mugging a little, vindicated after so long. “My mate. Castiel. Angel of Heaven.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam,” Cas said calmly. Dean was proud of him. His eyes were itching to bounce back and forth between the alphas like a ball, but he forced himself to hold steady and confident, like Cas, and keep his focus on Sam. He could also feel lots of other eyes on them, but those he ignored. Sam’s face was plenty entertaining, anyway.

Dean watched Sam’s disbelief move to shock as Sam scrambled, and failed, to pull himself together.

“I…I…oh. Really? I mean, nice to meet you, too. Finally.” Sam looked at Dean, wide-eyed and begging for an explanation or help from him, but Dean just smirked back at him.

“Obviously,” Dean stretched out the word, “I’m going into heat soon, so we’d really appreciate you guys taking Claire for a few days.” Dean made a show of wrapping his hand around Cas’s arm, and he was not disappointed by the slow horrified realization creeping across Sam’s face.

“Dean,” Sam remembered he was an alpha, “can I talk to you? In private?” He shot a totally unnecessary look at Cas.

“Sure,” Dean said, “let’s go to your house.”

Sam looked relieved, right until he realized Cas was coming with them. Dumbass, Dean thought, not without affection, what did Sam expect? That he’d just leave Cas standing here in the village square?

“Dean—”

“Sam.” Dean used his ‘I’m the parent’ voice, which worked better on Sam than it did on Claire. “Let’s go to your house and answer any questions you have in private. And I’d like Jess to take a look at something, if possible.”

“Um, yeah, yes, of course,” Sam stammered.

“Good,” Dean smiled sunnily, then called to Claire who was trying to drag Cas off to look at something, probably the puppies yipping in the yard of a whitewashed house. “Come on, sweet pea, let’s go to Sam and Jess’s house. You can show Papa Bones there.”

She agreed to that and tried to lead the way, dragging Cas along with one little hand fisted in his pant leg. Dean made her stop and take Sam’s hand instead. Cas still felt stiff and anxious next to him, even as they walked, like he was ready for an attack. Dean rubbed his cheek on Cas’s shoulder, just a little, hoping to let him catch a whiff of Dean’s calming scent. And if all the looky-loos in the village saw that, well… let them see it.

Sam and Jess lived in a small cottage just off the main square, a few houses down, just far enough to not be visible from the market. Jess was standing in the doorway, leaning out like she’d wanted to run down herself. Her face was also shocked when she saw Dean accompanied by a stranger. “Jess, this is my mate, Castiel,” Dean said quickly, to pre-empt anything Sam might be thinking about saying. “Alpha, Sam’s mate, Jessica.”

Jessica either dealt better with shock than Sam or she was just better bred— probably both. She inclined her head to Cas and murmured a traditional greeting.

“All right, let’s get inside, shall we?” Dean hurried them all inside.

Dean sniffed Jess as he hugged her, but she still wasn’t pregnant. He didn’t know what they were waiting for, but Dean was, against all likelihood, probably going to pop out number two before they got their first. Well, Dean might lay off trying to get Claire a cousin for a while, depending on how this afternoon went. The last time Dean had asked about it, he tried to check if Sam was knotting Jess correctly, which resulted in Sam turning lots of interesting colors and Dean almost falling off the sofa from laughing at him.

Of course their big dumb dog Bones was waiting to slobber all over everyone, much to Claire’s delight. Dean tried to block the mutt from jumping on Cas, but to his surprise Cas knelt down and murmured a few words to the dog. To everyone’s shock, Bones sat down immediately like the most well-behaved dog in the world.

“What…how did you do that?” Sam asked, gaping unattractively (so Dean thought).

“I’m an angel,” Cas replied, as if that was a normal and satisfactory explanation.

“Well, okay,” Jess said. “Everyone come in. Who wants tea?”

Everyone wanted tea and Dean hurried to help Jess so Sam couldn’t corner him and grill him, while also running back to check and make sure that Sam wasn’t grilling Cas, either. Claire seemed to be doing a good job of dominating the conversation, which was largely about dogs.

“So that’s your mate?” Jess whispered. “He’s pretty hot.”

And that was exactly what Dean hadn’t known he needed to hear. “He is, isn’t he?” Dean grinned. “Hey, Jess— could you take a look at his back? In a professional capacity?”

“Sure,” Jess said. “What’s— what happened?”

“Well, he’s an angel,” Dean said, not meeting her eye, “and he doesn’t have wings.” He knew she understood when she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Okay, sure,” she said. “Of course.”

They brought out the tea and some biscuits Jess had, because she was the sort of person who always had baked goods ready, unlike Dean, who between himself and Claire always finished them off right away.

He sent Claire to play in the backyard with Bones, trusting the dog to bark if anyone came too close, and sat next to Cas on the good sofa. It was small, so they were pressed together, which Dean preferred, anyway.

“So…Cas?” Sam said, even before Dean had finished settling down. He ignored Dean’s threatening glare. “Where have you been? What took you so long to get back to Dean?”

Dean hissed at him but Cas kept a smooth face and rested a hand on Dean’s knee. “I was taken as a prisoner of war,” he said, “and held captive by demons for three years.”

Sam looked taken aback but managed to continue being an asshole. “The war ended two years ago.”

“Yes,” and now Dean caught a hint of something he thought might be anger through the tight control Cas had over his scent. “So the demons informed us every day they refused to let us go.”

Dean felt a bolt of horror to his stomach that was reflected on Sam and Jess’s faces. Castiel still looked stone-faced but Dean could see the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth, and the hollow look in his clear blue eyes. His control over his scent was— well, inhuman,— but Dean had to cuddle close for his own sake. Cas did lean close to scent Dean and Dean felt some of Cas’s tension ease as he did so.

Dean glared at Sam. “Castiel,” Jess said quickly, “Dean told you I’m a healer?” She waited for his nod to continue. “Is there… some way I can help you? We can step into this room here.” She gestured to the side room she used to examine patients in private when they were well enough to come to her.

Cas looked at Dean, who nodded encouragingly. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he whispered. Cas rose slowly— obviously in pain, now that Dean was looking for it— and hesitantly followed Jess into her examination room, glancing a few more times at Dean and once at Sam before he stepped inside and Jess shut the door behind her.

The door was barely shut before Dean and Sam rounded on each other.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean hissed. “He just got here and you can’t be freaking civil?”

“Well sorry for being overprotective, Dean, when some alpha shows up out of nowhere, mates you, and disappears for five years! You don’t know anything about him! You don’t know where he’s really been or who he’s been with or what the hell took him so long—”

“I’ve seen the horrific mass of scars and the infected wounds where his wings were cut out to torture him.”

Sam shut his open mouth.

“He was tortured _every day_ by demons, Sam. You really think he’d rather do that than be with us? Don’t ever speak so disrespectfully to my mate again, or I’ll kick your ass.” Sam stank of regret now, as he should.

“Go make yourself useful and watch Claire,” Dean said.

“She looks like him,” Sam said, as a peace offering, rising to his feet.

“I’ve told you that,” Dean pointed out coldly. When Sam flinched like a kicked puppy, and hit him with the eyes to match, he relented slightly. “But yeah, she does.” He smiled a little, more thinking about Cas and Claire than directing it in any way at Sam, but Sam still smiled hesitantly back, nodded, and went to go do as Dean had commanded.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to wash his scent clean so Cas would not be upset and run out and smack Sam or something. When he felt reasonably calm, Dean knocked on the door to Jess’s examination room, and when she called “Come in,” he eased himself inside.  
The room was clean and plain, but looked friendly all the same. There was a thin, high bed which Cas was sitting on, and Dean went to stand next to him.

“Didn’t kill my mate?” Jess asked lightly.

“Not yet,” Dean said, and took Cas’s hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

He helped Cas get his shirt off and lay on his stomach so Jess could get a good look at his back. It was hard for alphas to bare their backs to a stranger this way, but Cas made no complaints and showed no hesitation that wasn’t related to the pain he was in. Dean tried to project a comforting scent, and stood by Cas’s head. Jess went pale when she looked at Cas’s back, but she had good scent control for a beta.

“Yes, these look infected,” she murmured. “How long ago were-- were the injuries acquired?”

Such a nice, neutral way to talk about torture, Dean thought, and stroked Cas’s hair. He tilted his head a little into Dean’s hand, so Dean kept his hand in his mate’s hair.

“I’m not sure,” Castiel’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “I was unconscious for some time after… after, and I’m not sure how many days it was.”

Dean made a low, angry sound, and Jess shot him a warning glance that Dean took to mean ‘Keep yourself under control or you’re out.’ Dean worked on getting his scent calm and soothing again.

“Has it been more than a week?” Jess asked.

“Oh yes,” Castiel said, rather more off hand than Dean would like. “Two and a half or three.”

Jess inhaled sharply. “You’ve had this infection for three weeks?”

Cas’s shoulders twitched in what might have been a shrug. “I’m not sure when the infection set in. I was feverish for a long time, but it might have been the--the amputation.” Cas’s voice almost disappeared on the word and Dean was massively proud of him. He leant down to brush a kiss on Cas’s dark hair.

“I think we need to drain the pus,” Jess said, an apology heavy in her voice. “There’s already a high chance of the infection spreading to the blood, and that could kill you.”

Cas did not whimper, but Dean whimpered for him. The idea of adding another cut to his back was appalling, and Jess clearly thought so too, which was the only reason he’d allow her to do it.

Dean crouched down so he could whisper to Cas. “I’m so sorry, Alpha, but I think we have to. I don’t want you to get sick.”

Cas’s jaw was tight, but he nodded, once. Dean pulled Cas’s head forward so he could scent Dean as Jess prepared to make the cuts. “My alpha,” Dean whispered, so Jess couldn’t hear. “You’re home now, you’re safe. It’ll be okay.”

When Jessica made the first cut, Cas’s scent ricocheted all over the place, but none of it good. Dean continued to whisper soothing nonsense, to lean over in a way that was killing his back so Cas could scent him, to try and project a scent that was soothing and calm and loving. “Safe safe safe, you’re safe,” he whispered, as Cas started to shake.

“Please hold still,” Jess whispered. Dean could smell the pus, and didn’t like it.

“Ok, that’s one done,” Jess reported, her voice shaky. Cas made a small whine in response but that was it. Dean could smell Cas’s distress now, and it didn’t mix well with the smells of stress from him and Jess, or the smell of the pus and blood that inevitably leaked out with it.

“Almost done, Alpha,” Dean whispered.

It still felt like a long time before Jess said “Ok, I think that’s it.” Dean leaned his head against Cas’s as the alpha took deep breaths.

“That’s all right, it’s over now, wasn’t so bad, huh?”

Cas moved his head enough to give Dean a look that indicated it was that bad, actually, and Dean grinned at him.

“Dean, could you come here?” Jess’s voice was back to steady and professional. “I want to show you how to clean these.”

It was clear the rinsing and the bandaging hurt, but Cas didn’t make another noise. Jess did the right side for an example, and Dean did the left under her supervision. Once the infected wounds were taken care of, Jess carefully pushed and felt Cas’s back, checking for something. Dean wasn’t sure what, but she spent long enough he started to get a little jealous, watching this woman-- his sister-in-law, he reminded himself-- put her hands all over his alpha’s back.

Then they helped him sit up and Jess asked him to put his arms above his head, frowning as he did so. Dean understood-- his movements were halting, and he definitely had limited mobility.

“Hopefully that will get better as your back heals,” she said. “If you keep working it it will be better. Probably. Unless you broke it?”

“My arms were broken several times,” Castiel said, and it felt like all the air was sucked out of the room. Dean forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. Cas looked back and forth between Dean and Jess. “Angels heal very quickly,” he said, as if that was what had struck them dumb.

“Okay,” Jess said quietly. “Is there anything else bothering you?”

Cas looked down, and seemed to be thinking deeply. “Missing my wings tends to dominate everything else.”

“Do you have phantom pains?”

“Yes.” Dean flinched at the answer. He wasn’t sure that was a pain he could help with. And he hadn’t _known_. Why hadn’t he realized?

“Well,” Jess continued in her gentle, calm tone, “I recommend plenty of sunshine and fresh air. And good food,” she smiled at Dean, and it pulled him out of his spiral of self-recrimination. “And keep those wounds clean. It doesn’t look like it’s poisoned his blood yet, but look out for red lines reaching away from the wounds.” She ducked down to smile at Castiel. “I think that Angelic strength has saved you so far, but you can let your mate take care of you now. Your job is to rest and get better. Well, after Dean’s heat, anyway.” She winked at them and Dean knew his face was red.

“Jess!” he hissed, and shot a glance at Castiel, to find him also looking embarrassed. On Castiel it was just adorable, however.

Jess grinned, not sorry at all. “Hey, I’ve got a lot of teasing to make up for with my brothers-in-law.”

Dean kind of wanted to cry again, but that was ridiculous, so he swallowed hard and got busy helping Cas get dressed again.

They went to check in on Sam and Claire, who were involved in some elaborate game with Bones that involved a lot of running and shouting. Sam had eventually figured out that the best tactic for dealing with Claire was to wear her out early.

Dean felt they could not stay much longer, though, especially since he had to still hit the market and find some food to buy. He said goodbye to Claire and gave her a long hug. She got a little quiet but they’d done this before, and she loved Sam and Jess. Castiel got to his knees to hug her, and he held her for a long time as they scented each other. Dean realized that for Castiel, this was leaving his new (to him) pup with virtual strangers. So Dean put a hand on his shoulder and eventually coaxed him away.

Dean held Cas’s hand as they walked away down the street. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “She loves them. They love her. And hey,” he leaned in, letting Cas get a good whiff of him, “We’ll be busy.”

Cas stumbled as he scented Dean’s oncoming heat, and Dean had to pull him along. “We still need food, alpha,” he said. Cas growled low in response, and Dean decided they’d better hurry.

There wasn’t much left at the market anyway. He got some stewing beef and steak especially for Cas. Some more vegetables that would keep a long time and were easy to cook: potatoes, carrots. “Do you have enough money?” Cas asked, after watching Dean carefully counting out the coins to pay for the beef. “How do you get money? I’ve never asked you. I… I should have, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay, Alpha,” Dean nudged their arms together. He was sweating in the sun, and couldn’t bear to be out of touching range of his mate. “You were kind of busy, man. We get by. We grow some things too, you know, and make things, like charms and hex bags and a lot of it’s just nonsense, but people will pay for it. Sometimes people bring things to me to fix. Wagons, or farm machinery.” Dean couldn’t help the pride that seeped into his voice. “Last spring I fixed Rufus Turner’s threshing machine. Had to do it at his place, it was too big to bring. He’s an old friend— I guess— of Bobby’s, though, and they’re actually neighbors. So Bobby just watched Claire the whole time. Of course,” he grinned, “I caught Rufus, the crankiest son of a bitch you’ve ever met, giving her a piggyback ride. He glares if I mention it, though.”

“I don’t know what work I can do,” Cas frowned. “I never— I’ve only been a soldier.” 

“Don’t worry about that now, Alpha.” Dean was surprised to find his voice had dropped to nearly a purr. “You just build your strength up, for now.” Cas looked somewhat disgruntled, but it was easy to distract him by flashing his neck at him. He’d already taken to looming over Dean’s shoulder, glowering at anyone who got too close to Dean. He was going to get a reputation, which amused the hell out of Dean. He’d been keeping an eye out for any of the alphas likely to cause trouble, but none of them appeared. Benny had the sense to stay away, if he’d heard, and, rather unfortunately, no sign of Gordon. Or Alastair. Dean couldn’t help the slight shudder at the thought of him. It was incredible to think that two days ago he’d decided to move because of that douche bag, and now… now, he didn’t have to be afraid of Alastair at all. Well, all right, he was maybe hoping they didn’t run into Alastair before Cas was back in good shape, but then…yeah, he’d like to see Cas beat the crap out of Alastair. He’d like that a lot.

“Dean? Is something wrong?” Dean’s scent must have been fluctuating with his thoughts; that happened a lot more with his heat.

“Nah,” Dean said. “Just thinking dumb things. Let’s go home. I think we’ve got enough to get through a few days.”

They were both nervous walking back, and a whole herd of butterflies had taken up residence in Dean’s stomach and were throwing a party. It wasn’t even the first time. Just… the first time in a long time. What if it wasn’t the same? Oh gods, what if it was _bad?_

That was stupid, Dean reminded himself, because once he was truly in full-blown heat neither of them would even be thinking straight. It would be fine. It would all be fine, and it would probably be amazing, and once the awkward first time was out of the way things could go into a normal they’d never actually been able to establish before. And it would be fine.

They made it out of the village without having to fight anyone or explain to anyone, although there were plenty of people obviously eager to ask questions, but Dean made sure not to make eye contact with any of them. Busybodies. Let them try minding their own damn business for a change.

When the cottage came into view, the butterflies started up a marching band in his stomach. They were too nervous to speak, and carried their packages inside in silence. Dean was still sweating even in the house, and this was definitely part of his heat.

He was trying to decide if he had time to make some food when Castiel suddenly plastered himself to Dean’s back and pressed his face into his neck. “I guess we made it home just in time,” Dean laughed.

Cas growled lowly, and…yep, Dean was definitely getting wet. And hard. Cas felt so good against him. Smelled so good. How had he lived so long without this? How could he live without it for one more second?

Dean realized he’d been rubbing himself against Cas and purring slightly, which would have been embarrassing if the heat wasn’t wiping out any shame or any emotion much besides desperation to be filled.

“Alpha,” he groaned, startled by his own voice, how far gone he sounded, “I’m gonna need you to knot me. Immediately.”

Cas’s teeth grazed his neck, over his mating bite, and Dean shuddered. Cas pulled Dean into his arms and was clearly about to pick him up and carry him off when Dean managed to pull himself away enough to get his mate’s attention. “Cas! You can’t carry me, you’ll hurt your back!”

Castiel did not like that; he grumbled and growled but didn’t try to pick Dean up again, either. Dean led the way to their room instead. His heart raced a little more when he caught sight of the bed, and he wished he’d thought to change the sheets this morning, even knowing what a mess they were about to make of them.

He shivered with pleasure at the thought but a cramp struck, shooting up through his abdomen, and he groaned and wrapped his arms around his stomach. “Stupid Omega body shit,” he muttered.

Cas touched him, gently, soothing him and guiding Dean to sit on the bed. He knelt in front of Dean, and his movements were a little stiff, but Dean was starting to get consumed by how stifling wearing clothes was.

“Alpha,” he groans, starting to wriggle on the bed because he can’t keep still. “Alpha, I need you.”

“It’s okay, Omega,” he murmured. Dean couldn’t look away from his eyes. “I’m here now.”

Dean was burning up. He couldn’t get out of his clothes fast enough, getting stuck and ready to tear them before he felt his alpha’s hands on him— _finally_— and he went still long enough for Cas to help pull his shirt off. That felt better, but nothing was going to be really good until they were both naked, and while Castiel seemed to be standing there admiring Dean, he wasn’t taking off any of his own clothes.

Dean gave into his urges, in a tactical way, and rolled onto his stomach and then to his knees and presented. “Come on, Alpha,” he growled. “Need you.”

He’d heard Cas suck in a breath behind him, and now he felt Cas’s hands hovering over his skin. Just hovering— Dean could feel the heat from his hands, and he whined about not getting the actual touch. “Please,” he said, as another cramp clenched his gut. “It hurts.”

“Omega,” Castiel whispered, and fucking finally laid his hands on Dean, smoothing his palms over Dean’s back and ass and down his thighs. Dean whined and pushed into his hands in response. Then his hands went away again, which was terrible, but Dean at least heard the rustles and thumps of Castiel getting undressed.

Then his mate’s hands returned to him, hands sliding around in a tease that wasn’t anywhere near enough, and just when Dean thought he was going to have to complain again, Cas spread him wide open and _licked._

Dean moaned and jumped and pressed back against his mate’s tongue, desperate for more. Cas gave him more. He lapped up Dean’s slick, working him open with his tongue, then adding fingers. Dean would have told him to hurry up, but then Cas started fucking him with his tongue, and Dean couldn’t do anything but moan and take it.

The heat wasn’t appeased though, he wasn’t full enough, and it kept burning him up for the inside until he was begging for a knot. “C-Cas. Please. Need you. Need your knot.”

Cas pulled back enough to curl his fingers inside Dean instead, lips ghosting over Dean’s back. Cas found what he was searching for inside Dean, stroking the magic bundle of nerves inside him. Dean’s arms gave out entirely and landed face down on the bed.

“Like that?” Cas whispered, his lips still brushing the small of Dean’s back.

Dean only whimpered. Cas teased him until Dean was the on the edge, then he tried to pull away. “Alpha, please. Inside me.”

His alpha hesitated, and Dean’s heat-stricken mind couldn’t stand it. “Want you to breed me again, Cas,” he groaned. “Like you did before. Filled me up so good, Alpha."

Castiel growled, low and deep. Dean could feel it in his chest, and swore another wave of slick rushed out of him.

The alpha grabbed his hips and tugged him where he wanted him, Dean already too strung out to do anything but be moved around.

Cas flipped Dean onto his back, shocking a gasp out of him as he landed. “Wanna see you,” Cas mumbled. His eyes were mostly black, and his hands shook as he pushed and pulled Dean into the position he wanted.

Dean thrust his hips up to encourage him, feeling like he was barely hanging onto sanity and if he didn’t get Cas inside him now he was definitely going to lose it. “Alpha… Cas…please.”

Finally, finally, Cas covered Dean’s body with his own. His breath, then his mouth, burned on Dean’s neck, but he was quickly distracted by the feel of Cas’s cock brushing between his legs. Dean whined and tried to push into him, but Cas held him down, which only made Dean even hotter.

“Good omega,” Cas whispered, and Dean could only whine in response. He needed his mate inside of him.

He did not have to wait any more. Castiel let go of Dean long enough to guide himself to his entrance. He pushed inside, so slowly, and as worked open as Dean had been, it had been five years and Cas felt huge inside him. Pushing Dean open, making his way back in. Dean keened, needy and relieved all at once. Cas felt bigger than he remembered, filling Dean enough to squeeze everything else out: doubt and fear and loneliness.

Dean couldn’t wait anymore and pushed back onto Cas, seating him fully inside. They both groaned and paused to catch their breath (though it didn’t really work). “Alpha,” Dean gasped, barely able to get enough air, and Cas made an answering groan, already sounding wrecked.

“Alpha,” Dean said again, more insistently. Castiel understood. He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in. Dean keened, pure pleasure. This was what he needed. This time, it had to be hard and fast fucking; he needed to be taken, and claimed. Castiel understood, and Castiel gave him what he needed.

Dean lost himself to the rhythm, the heat, the feel of his mate around him and inside him. His mate’s teeth scraped on his neck and Dean whined and bared his neck. He needed Cas to bite him again, mate him again, fill him and breed him and…

“I will, I will…” Cas groaned. Dean had just enough presence of mind to not grab at Cas’s back, and he sunk his hands into Cas’s arms as he felt Cas’s knot forming. Dean shouted as the knot tugged on his rim, filling him, stretching him. He felt like he was about to catch fire, like he couldn’t take another second, and then Cas shouted above him, just a second before sinking his teeth into Dean’s mating bite, needle-sharp for a moment of bright pain before Dean was lost, too, coming between them with a loud shout.

He came back to himself with Cas gently licking the renewed bite, still tied securely together and Dean so, so full. He hummed happily. “So good.” His throat hurt a little, but he didn’t mind.

“My mate,” Cas rumbled between licks to Dean’s neck. “My Omega.”

There was a bit of a struggle and no small amount of flailing as they tried to figure out how to lay without Dean being crushed, Cas’s back being free, and so Castiel could still lick at Dean’s neck, since he apparently wasn’t done cleaning it yet. Once they were settled on the right sides, wrapped up tightly together, Dean hummed happily and closed his eyes. The heat was satisfied for now, his mind was clear, and this was all he’d dreamed of for five years. Tears pricked behind his eyelids and he wiggled his nose deeper into his mate’s neck, letting his scent wash over him and overwhelm all his senses.

“Are you all right?” Cas whispered. His fingers gently touched the mating bite on Dean’s neck.

“Mmh-hmm,” Dean purred. “Really good, Alpha.”

“Good,” Cas murmured, and tucked his arm around Dean, pulling him impossibly closer. “Next time you bite me,” he said around a yawn.

Dean yawned in response, grinning. “Hell yeah I will.”

~*~*~*~

There was no one to fight, but Castiel needed to fight. It was still hurting, but his enemies were out of his reach. It was dark and silent and he was alone. They had taken his blade and they had taken his wings… Where were the bars? The walls? When it had become really bad, Castiel used to throw himself against the walls, just to feel something, to control some of his pain…

He woke up in bed with his mate in his cottage, the sun starting to rise. Castiel lay very still for a while, muscles still tense and quivering. He took a deep breath, then another. It was over.

He turned to scent Dean, and found that Dean’s heat was over, too. It had been two days, which was what Dean had said he expected. It was too early to know if Dean had caught again, but that didn’t really stop Castiel from trying to scent him again anyway.

But without Dean’s heat crowding his senses, sending him into a matching rut, subsuming everything else in lust, all the old fears and nightmares and problems crowded back in. Castiel was broken, inside and out. His wings were gone forever, his blade had been taken from him and wouldn’t return, and Castiel could never return to his people with such shame. He loved Dean and he loved Claire, but they were strangers to each other. As good as being with Dean felt— as good as that _connection_ felt— Castiel knew it was largely an effect of the hormones. He liked it, of course— the taste of Dean on his tongue, the tug of faint soreness where Dean had renewed the mating bite on Cas’s neck. 

Dean was his mate but they lacked basic information about each other— a fact highlighted in stark relief when Dean put white beans in a stew without knowing Castiel hated them. Castiel had done his best to eat them so as not to hurt Dean’s feelings, but his clever human mate had figured it out. They tried to laugh about it, but it was an uncomfortable reminder.

Castiel tried to focus on the window, on the sunrise, since that was beauty that had no claim on him. They had neglected to pull the curtains and the sky was a magnificent wash of pink and orange and red, and the glow seeped into the room with ease. Castiel was too full of thoughts and feelings to go back to sleep, too jittery after dark dreams, so he sat up in bed, careful not to disturb Dean.

Castiel was so _relieved_ and _grateful_ to be back with his family, in a bone-deep, soul-shaking way, but he wasn’t sure he _belonged_ here. He wasn’t human, and he didn’t know how he would fit into the tidy life Dean and Claire had made for themselves. He was not sure that Dean’s family would ever accept him as a suitable mate for Dean. 

And as for his own brothers and sisters… well, it was best if they believed him dead.

Castiel knew many of these problems would be corrected in time. They would learn what they liked and didn’t like, how to fit together, how to live together. It was terrifying to believe even that much, to have faith in it, but Castiel had no other choice. If he didn’t believe in that, then why had he even come here? What good were all those years of clinging to this one thing, through the torture and the dark and the silence, if he didn’t have faith in this life with Dean? He could at least have faith in Dean, even if he didn’t have faith in himself. Time would heal some wounds, or at least make living with them easier. Maybe someday he wouldn’t miss flying. The worst was behind him.

It was a terrifying, liberating thought, and Castiel repeated it to himself carefully, with deep breaths, until he began to really believe it. _The worst is behind me._ Obviously at least two Really Bad Things could still happen, but barring that, there was nothing that could happen to him that was worse than what he’d already been through.

“What are you thinking, Alpha?” Dean’s voice was rough and still drugged with sleep.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Castiel whispered.

“Thinkin’ too loud?” Dean made a face that meant he would have smiled if it wasn’t so early, and Castiel felt a sweet rush of pleasure at the thought that he knew that about Dean. “You _were_ thinking too loud,” Dean muttered. He smooshed his face into the pillow, but Dean was never one for lazing around much. He pushed himself up and leaned against Castiel’s arm. He blinked out at the sunrise with him.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Cas whispered, leaning his cheek on top of his mate’s head.

“S’okay,” Dean mumbled. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Cas nuzzled him gently. “I was thinking… that I am looking forward to today. And tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean yawned. “What’s today and tomorrow?”

“You,” Castiel replied. “And Claire.”

“Oh gods,” Dean groaned, surprising Castiel. “You’re up at dawn using _metaphors_. Even Sam doesn’t do that!”

Castiel understood Dean was teasing him, so he wrapped an arm around Dean and held his mate close to him. Dean shuffled into a more comfortable position.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. “Cas? Really.”

“I will be,” Castiel answered, with all the confidence of his faith in Dean.

They had _time_ now.

Oh god, please let them have time now.

~*~

They had to take baths before going in to collect Claire, of course. Dean washed him carefully, and spent an unnecessarily lengthy amount of time, or so Castiel thought, examining his back. Castiel gathered his courage. “How do they look?”

“Well, there was definitely some more bleeding,” Dean muttered, and he smelled guilty. “Fresh scabs on some of them, but they don’t look so infected any more, so there’s that. No red lines like Jess talked about.”

“They’re healing, then, Dean,” Cas said. “Don’t feel guilty.”

“Hmm,” Dean said.

Cas leaned back until he could nudge Dean. “We were in heat and rut. We couldn’t be careful. Might actually help, with the healing, anyway.”

“Oh,” Dean’s hand rubbed over the safe parts of Cas’s back and shoulder, soothing. “Well, I hope so, then. Come on, Alpha, let’s get a move on.”

Castiel was tempted to pull Dean back into the bath with him, but he did want to get their pup back at some point today.

Dean shaved him, carefully, and Castiel relaxed under his hands. They kissed for a while, Dean in his lap, so Dean could enjoy the feel of his soft, beard-free skin. “I mean you look hot with a beard,” Dean said. “So I’m not going to mind if you grow it again.”

“I look more like myself this way,” Castiel said. Dean nodded in understanding.

“You look hot this way, too,” Dean grinned. “So I have no complaints.”

“Still need to get you some clothes,” Dean muttered, when they were getting dressed later. “We’re about out.” Castiel sat on the bed and waited patiently as Dean sorted through available garments of varying cleanliness. “Better do the wash, too,” Dean continued, mostly to himself.

“I can help with that,” Cas said.

“No you can’t,” Dean said, struggling through a shirt. He popped his head and saw Castiel frowning. “It’s really hard on your back, Cas. You’re supposed to take it easy.”

“Then what can I do to help?”

“Trust me, Cas. Just keeping Claire occupied and out from under my feet— and out of the laundry basin— will be more than enough help.”

Castiel felt unconvinced, but he did have to acknowledge that washing clothes would indeed be bad for his healing back.

They got dressed in what they could find. As they were about to leave the cottage, Dean stopped him. “You’re anxious,” he said. Dean hesitated another moment, then said, “You know you don’t have to come, if you don’t want to. If the village is…too much.”

The _village?_ The village was hardly anything, and it was full of people but most of them didn’t matter to Castiel, at least not at this point in time. After what he’d survived at the hands of demons, let alone the war itself…to think a small village full of humans might be too much to handle was insulting.

And then Castiel’s flash of anger collapsed into something darker. He was so broken his mate did not think him capable of walking into a village to retrieve his own pup.

_And he might be right,_ whispered a hissing dark voice. It was true, wasn’t it, that Castiel was dreading walking into the village? Facing unfamiliar and hostile people? _Wouldn’t_ he rather stay here, where it was safe and quiet?

_Oh yeah,_ whispered the voice that sounded uncomfortably like Azazel, _send your mate and pup out instead. Real proper alpha behavior, that._

“Hey, Cas! Cas!” Castiel opened his eyes— when had he closed them?— to find Dean standing close in front of him, hands on his arms, eyes wide and smelling worried and scared.

On instinct Castiel grabbed his mate and pulled him close— _why was he scared, Castiel must protect him_— and then just as quickly let him go when he realized _he_ was the one scaring Dean.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his voice broke.

“Hey, Alpha, it’s okay.” Dean tried to pull him close to scent him, but Castiel resisted. Dean just tugged harder, and Cas finally gave in and let himself scent his mate. The worry was still there but the fear was faint, although Dean was certainly making a conscious effort to be soothing. “Come on, Alpha,” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Cas said. “I— this morning was so nice, I don’t know why…”

Dean hugged him tightly. “Cas, I’m not…not good at talking about this stuff. Any stuff, really. I mean, emotions and feelings and shi- stuff. But you know you can talk to me about it, right? I may not be any use at talking, but I can still listen. And if you don’t want to do something— for whatever reason— please just tell me, okay?”

“I want to go with you,” Castiel said, and it was a relief how convincing his voice was - steady and sure. “I am worried it will be overwhelming, though.”

“What will?” Dean asked, his voice and scent both gentle and coaxing. “The amount of people? Or… Sam? Is it Sam? I’ll make sure he backs off, he—”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m not afraid of your brother. It’s… I’m afraid I’ll never be normal, that I’ll never fit in. That I won’t be _good_ for you and Claire.” He lowered his eyes. “That I won’t be a good father.”

“Well, hell, Cas,” Dean’s tone was much more light-hearted than Castiel had been expecting, and he tensed. Dean ran his hands lightly down Castiel’s arms, and gently squeezed his hands. “Everyone’s afraid of that. All the time. And hey, look at me—” Castiel could only obey— “I won’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, or say it won’t be harder for you than other people. Hell, you’re here with a bunch of humans, and I know there’s going to be culture stuff that’s weird, too.” He smiled, and it made Castiel relax. Dean’s smiles were too beautiful not to revel in them.

“But I know you’ll do your best. We may not everything about each other, but I do know that about you. You’ll do your best, and I’ll do my best, and that’ll be enough, okay?”

Castiel nodded, and thought there might even be a smile teasing at his mouth, judging by the way Dean’s eyes dropped down there. “For someone who doesn’t like talking about feelings, you certainly did quite well there,” he couldn’t resist saying.

“Oh my gods,” Dean said, letting go of his hands. “Shut up! Now let’s get out of here, while there’s still stuff worth buying in the market.” His words and face were annoyed but his scent was happy, and Castiel, calmed, at least for now, was happy to follow him out into the sunshine.

“Though the truth is,” Castiel admitted, once they were upon the road, “I am a little afraid of the villagers. And the staring. For I am…diminished.”

Dean frowned, and this time his displeasure was real. “Fuck that, Cas. What the hell do you mean by ‘diminished’ anyway?”

Castiel had to try twice before he could get the words out. “I had my wings and my blade ripped from me,” he said. “No proper Angel soldier would live in such condition.”

“WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?” Dean grabbed his arm tightly, pulling him to a stop, and Castiel realized too late how that sounded.

“I don’t mean…I mean, Heaven would expect me to have not survived that. They will never accept me back without them.”

Dean glared at him, searching. There was fear in his scent.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “I didn’t mean to imply…I don’t want to die. I want to stay here, with you and Claire, even if I don’t understand anything else, I do know that. But I am not what I once was.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, and Castiel rested his fingers lightly against them to stop him. “Beloved,” he said, “I haven’t been what I once was in a long time. I haven’t been what I once was since I met you. That’s not bad.”

Dean closed his mouth but was clearly sulking. “It’s okay, Dean. Maybe I…” Castiel startled himself with the thought, and voiced it out loud slowly. “Maybe I had to change, to fit in here.”

“You didn’t have to change,” Dean muttered. Such a gloriously rebellious omega. Castiel couldn’t help but smile at him. Dean squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m okay. At least until we get into the village.”

Dean’s eyes widened, and then he squinted. “Is that a joke?”

Castiel just stared at him, because that made it funnier. At least to him.

“Okay, fine. Let’s get going and find our pup. And if anyone stares at you, I’ll fight them.”

“My fierce omega,” Castiel murmured, and reached out to entwine their fingers together. Dean blushed, but he did not shake off Castiel’s hand.

The village did not look any different than the last time he’d come in with Dean. The road became lined with low little human houses with large gardens that gradually became larger human houses with no gardens. The village was very small compared to the great Citadel of Angels, but that was a welcome change to Castiel. The market square had more vendors than before, as it was earlier in the day, and Dean beelined for several stalls, focused and purposeful. Castiel followed him obediently. He wasn’t exactly afraid of any human— it was more the idea of being separated from Dean, in a mass of humans, that made him nervous.

He hovered behind Dean, pressed more closely than he should be, he knew, and avoided contact with everyone. Dean bought meat and flour and some apples that did manage to distract Castiel with their fresh tart smell, different from Dean’s own sweeter apple and cinnamon scent.

Castiel insisted on at least making himself useful by carrying the basket. The worst part was when Dean reached the fabric stall, and spent what felt like an interminable amount of time sorting through the fabric, complaining about the quality, and holding fabric up to Castiel with the assistance of the overexcited shopkeeper. Castiel could give no useful input— he had only ever worn uniforms, and no real idea of what kind of clothes and colors he liked or didn’t, having never had to think about it before.

“I don’t know what I like,” Castiel said, unable to hide his exasperation the fourth time Dean asked for his preference between two identical-seeming bolts of cloth. “I have never had to decide on my own apparel, so please just do it for me. I defer to you in all matters of shopping and…everything else. Pick whatever you want.”

Dean put his hands on his hips. “You seriously don’t even have a favorite color?”

Castiel shrugged. “The color of your eyes?”

All traces of annoyance immediately vanished from Dean’s scent, and his ears reddened.

“Wow, where did he come from?” the shopkeeper asked. “And are there more of him?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “There aren’t,” he said, a sharp note in his voice.

Dean assembled what he deemed enough cloth, including a ready-made white shirt that closed up the front with buttons that seemed like it would fit. They were now quite overloaded so they went to pick up Claire.

She ran at them shrieking when they stepped inside, and Castiel managed not to flinch because it was a happy noise. She ran for Dean first, of course, and Castiel did feel less anxious as he watched Dean swing her up into his arms. She gave Dean a big hug, until Dean had to beg her to loosen her arms around his neck. Castiel had just enough time to put down his shopping basket before she held out an arm to him. Castiel stepped forward, awkwardly, and Claire got an arm around his neck, smooshing them all together.

“Okay, better now, Claire-bear? Wanna let us breathe again?”

“No!” she shouted, right in both their ears, but did let go enough that Dean could set her down.

“Man, what have Uncle Sam and Aunt Jess been feeding you?” Dean said. “I think you’ve grown three feet!”

“Noooo, Daddy!” she took Dean’s hand in hers and shook his arm in excitement. “And we ate pie!”

“You ate pie _without me?_” Dean gasped, put a hand to his chest, and staggered back.

Castiel wondered if he’d ever understand how to interact with Claire in this way. It seemed enjoyable but he didn’t think he understood how to be…silly.

“Yes we did!” Jessica said cheerfully. “But because we loved you we saved you both a piece.”

“Surprise!” Claire threw her arms in the air.

“Okay, okay,” Dean grinned. “I guess we don’t have to lock you in your room when we get home, then.”

“Hey!”

“So,” Sam asked, when they were sitting around the table, eating their slices of dark berry pie, “how did everything go?”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “You really want details?”

Sam blanched. “No! I didn’t… that’s not what I meant!”

“Cause I can _give_ you details…”

“No, no! Pup! Pup right there!” Sam pointed at Claire, who had crawled into Castiel’s lap since she knew him an easy mark to share his pie.

“Right here!” she agreed.

Dean and Jessica burst out laughing. Castiel just leaned forward enough to catch Claire’ happy pup scent, letting it soothe away his remaining anxiety about this visit.

Later he let Jessica look at his back again, and said pronounced it “As good as could be expected, considering. But for the next couple weeks _really_ try to just rest and heal. It’ll do you so much good.”

Dean nodded so seriously Castiel resigned himself to at least another week of uselessness.

The visit went much more smoothly than the last one, but Castiel was still relieved when Dean announced it was time to go. Sam and Jessica walked them to the edge of the market square to see them off.

“I’ll make dinner soon as thanks,” Dean said. “Come over in three days?”

“No problem for us,” Sam said, an arm around his mate. “But Bobby and Ellen are going to skin you alive if you don’t talk to them soon.”

Dean winced. “I know. It’s just…it’s been a lot. We need to settle in a bit first.”

Castiel knew he meant that _he_ had to settle in, but it didn’t bother him much just now. He’d recaptured some of feeling of hope from this morning; it was easier with his pup returned and the stresses of the village visit behind them.

They all seemed eager to get home. Claire talked at first about what she’d done with Sam and Jess, most of which seemed to revolve around the dog, but she soon began to yawn and tapered off. “You’re doing a good job walking between us, Claire,” Dean praised, and she beamed up at them.

And then Castiel felt…something. Something he didn’t quite understand at first, because it was so unexpected, here and now. Then his brain made the right connections, and he froze. “Dean, Claire! Stop!”

They looked at him, baffled.

And then thing pinging in his brain as _demon!_ stepped into the path, and spoke in an oily voice. “Well, well, well. Looks like the slut was telling the truth after all. You _do_ exist.”

~*~*~*~

Dean should have been expecting it on some level. There had been plenty of time for the news to get around, after all: he’d expected it to. He knew everyone was talking about the alpha he’d appeared in the village with; he’d seen signs of fervent gossiping as they walked past. He wanted everyone to know his alpha was here.

But he’d thought the other alphas would leave him alone once they knew. On some level, Dean had been craving this fight for a long time: he’d dreamed of Castiel showing up and beating the hell out of Alastair.

But not now. Not when Cas was still so injured. Not when they were tired, with their arms full. Not in front of their pup.

“He is a demon,” Castiel spoke with the certainty he had used when Dean had first met him, and that Dean only now realized he’d missed. When Dean glanced at his mate, Castiel was standing straight, back be damned apparently, with eyes narrowed. He looked like a soldier. “Or… half-demon.”

Alastair was a half-demon? That…that made so many things make sense. The appearing and disappearing. Dean would have never had a chance in a fight.

“Tell me, little birdie,” Alastair said, “what happened to your wings?”

Dean was furious Alastair had the balls to say that to his mate. He wanted to growl, and omegas never growled.

His arms were full of cloth but he managed to pull Claire behind him. “Why don’t you fuck all the way off?” Dean snarled. “As I’ve told you many, many times. I have an alpha. And he’s here. So for the last time: leave us the fuck alone.”

Alastair laughed. “I’m willing to fight for what I want. Is your so-called alpha?”

There was a clatter as Castiel dropped the basket. Dean mentally sighed. Now Alastair had cost them their food, too.

Castiel charged past Dean and Claire, growling and eyes red, and in that moment no one would know he was injured at all. 

Castiel ran straight at Alastair and crashed bodily into him, sweeping them both down to the dirt. “Castiel!” Dean shouted in alarm, but Castiel was still on top, and he pulled away enough to slam a fist into Alastair’s face. A spurt of blood followed, and Dean was darkly pleased to see it.

Claire, though, smelled terrified, and Dean pulled her behind him. He wanted to keep her in his grip— every instinct was telling him to hold onto her and not let go— but he also thought it would be better to get her the hell out of here.

He dropped to his knees to face her, unable to stop from looking over his shoulder every few seconds to where Castiel and Alastair traded blows and scrabbled on the ground. But Claire was also staring over his shoulder at them , eyes wide and fixed. “Claire,” Dean said, and put his hands on her shoulders. “Claire!” He gave her a little shake, and she reluctantly looked at him.

“Papa…” she sobbed.

“Claire, I need you to be a big, brave girl and listen to me, okay?” Dean spoke so quickly the words tumbled over themselves. “I need you to run back to Uncle Sam, okay? Claire! I need you to go now!”

She whined, looked pleadingly at Dean, then back at where the alphas fought. Dean heard a pained grunt that he was sure was Cas. Claire’s eyes widened.

“We have to help him,” she said, tears in her big blue eyes.

“I will help him,” Dean promised. “And I need you to go get Sam so he can help, too. Got it?”

She pouted, but nodded.

“Claire,” Dean gasped. “Please. Go to Sam! Now!”

She screwed up her face in a little determined pout, and then, thankfully, nodded. She turned and ran away, as fast as her little legs could go, and Dean did not take his eyes off her until she rounded the corner. Then Dean turned back to the fight.

Both Cas and Alastair were bleeding, and had managed to get on their feet again. Dean watched as Cas went for Alastair again, using moves that looked fancy and looked like they might have been effective, except that Cas’s back was obviously hampering him. The cuts were bleeding through his shirt, too, and Dean could hear how ragged his breathing was from where he stood.

Dean began looking around for something he could use as a weapon. Omega or not, he wasn’t going to stand around while his mate was hurt.

Someone screamed, and Dean jumped and watched, eyes wide, as Castiel…did something to Alastair. His hand was pressing on the half-demon’s forehead, and a bright white light shone around it. Alastair was the one screaming, at least.

And then the light flickered out, and Castiel slumped, swaying on his feet. Alastair laughed.

“Whatever they ripped out of you, they did it good, they didn’t they? Broken little thing.”

Alastair slammed his fist into Castiel’s face, spinning him around. Dean shouted and ran toward them. Alastair put both hands on Castiel’s back, digging his fingers in, and pulled. Castiel screamed, there was a lot of blood, and Castiel swayed and collapsed.

Dean was furious. How _dare_ that disgusting excuse for an alpha put hands on his mate?

Even though Dean was at a new height of fury, it was like everything around him slowed down and became clear. The world looked more real, from their shopping scattered on the road to Castiel trying to push himself up and collapsing in pain, to Alastair taking a step toward him.

Dean picked up the cloth he’d bought to make Castiel a new coat. It was the longest and sturdiest, and as he walked toward the alphas he twisted the cloth tightly.

Alastair stood over Castiel, smirking. He was saying something, but Dean wasn’t listening. He heard only the pounding of his own blood in his ears. But he remembered, perfectly well, all the things Alastair had _already_ said to him. To Claire.

Alastair wasn’t paying any attention to Dean. He bent down over Castiel, running his godsdamn mouth, and Dean slipped in behind him.

In a swift, sure movement, Dean flicked the roped cloth around Alastair’s neck, then pulled back, crossing his arms. He pulled, and pulled.

Alastair stumbled back but Dean moved with him, pulling him off-balance and dragging him down. Dean did not release the cloth, only pulled as tightly as he could, arms locked. Alastair clawed at the cloth, but it was too thick and tight for him to pull. Alastair’s face turned red. Dean did not release him.

It took much, much longer than Dean had thought it would, but Alastair finally stopped twitching.

“Dean.”

Dean looked up, almost surprised to see Castiel. He’d been so focused on Alastair he’d forgotten everything around him.

Castiel was still on the ground but had crawled around to face Dean. He was pale under the blood on his face, and his back was a mass of red.

“Dean,” he said again, voice even more hoarse than Dean had ever heard it. “Don’t let go yet.”

There was some part of Dean that was…relieved. This was his alpha’s approval, and Dean nodded, once, and kept holding on, kept the rope tight.

“DEAN!” Sam’s voice startled Dean into letting go, but Alastair just slumped at his feet. Sam was only just now coming around the corner, and Dean staggered away from Alastair.

Behind Sam came Benny and Victor, and then Bobby and Rufus and Jess. Dean stumbled another few steps back, letting the cloth fall from his hands.

Alastair slumped on the ground and didn’t move.

“You can’t trust—” Castiel coughed. “Cut his head o—”

“Don’t move!” Jess hurried to his side. Dean stumbled toward Cas as well, needing to touch him.

“Cas?” he whispered, kneeling next to him.

“Dean,” he whispered. Dean cupped a hand around his cheek and Cas let his head drop into the cushion Dean made for him.

“I’ll get him,” Bobby said grimly. This prompted the other men to begin arguing about who should cut Alastair’s head off.

“Sam! Where’s Claire?” Dean shouted.

“With Ellen and Jo,” Sam said, coming over to Dean’s side. He put a hand on Dean’s back, and for a moment Dean felt like he was floating between them, Sam and Cas, supported on either side.

In the end he didn’t see who cut Alastair’s head off but he did see that it had been done.

Jess had used more of Dean’s newly-purchased cloth to clean and bind the worst of Castiel’s wounds. Castiel passed out halfway through, and Dean told himself it was a mercy, rather than just worrying about it. Sam, Benny, and Victor helped to carry him back to the cottage.

“Boy,” Bobby snuck up on Dean’s side. “We need to talk.”

Dean winced. “I know, Bobby. But now isn’t really—”

“Yeah, so you keep saying. At least according to Sam.”

“Bobby—”

“I ain’t saying you gotta drop everything and hold a dinner party. But I am saying you might want to keep your damn family a bit more in the loop.”

“I know, okay? And I’m sorry. But… honestly? You guys come on strong, and Cas…he’s been through a lot. I just wanted to give him some time.”

“Protect him, you mean.”

“Well… yeah, I guess.”

Bobby nodded, and patted Dean’s shoulder a couple times. “Well I’d say you did that today, boy.”

Dean understood this was Bobby forgiving him. “We’ll see.” His stomach was squirming over Castiel’s injuries and worrying about the state of his mate.

“Angels are tough, boy,” Bobby said. “He made it back to you. Don’t think you’ll get rid of him that easy.”

Dean tried to smile, but he thought to himself that losing Cas now would be both unbearable and Winchester luck.

Sam, Victor, and Benny laid Castiel on the bed, and then Victor, Benny, and Rufus excused themselves to go take care of what was left of Alastair. 

Sam scurried off to bring fresh water so Jess could wash Castiel’s injuries again. There was lots of dirt and debris in his wounds, and Dean helped her clean them. Dean was wiping his face clean when Cas’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hey,” Dean whispered. “Hey, sweetheart. How you doing?”

“Dean,” Cas groaned. He tried to move his arm, to reach for Dean, but had to stop as it pulled at his back.

“Shhh, Castiel,” Jess said. “Try not to move.”

“It’s okay, Alpha,” Dean murmured, patting at Cas’s face. “Everyone’s okay.”

“Claire?” he whispered.

“Just fine. Safe with Ellen. My aunt. She didn’t see…much.”

Castiel sighed and let his eyes close.

Sam brought Claire back a few hours later, Ellen and Jo resolutely on his heels. “She wouldn’t settle down ’til she’d seen you,” Ellen said.

“Hey, pup,” Dean said, holding out his arms. Claire jumped in them, squirming until she was as close as possible and pressing her face to his neck to scent him.

“My brave girl,” Dean murmured, scenting her back and stroking her tangled hair. “You did so good, sweetie. Just perfect. So proud of you.”

The night wore on, and Dean did not sleep, although exhaustion pulled at his eyes. Claire slept in his lap and woke up anytime someone tried to move her, so Dean just waved the rest of them off and kept her slumped against his shoulder.

Jess stayed up with them, and Sam hung around, although he eventually got everyone else to clear off. Ellen, unusually, had held her tongue, but the looks she’d sent Dean’s way were pretty dire, and Dean knew he was in for it, probably sooner rather than later.

Castiel woke in the morning. Dean and Jess helped him sit up, and Claire cried, quietly, large sniffs rather than sobs. Dean let her onto the bed and hovered anxiously as she crawled up to Cas, ready to snatch her up if it looked like it was going to hurt him too much. But Castiel only curled a hesitant arm around her and she sniffed him (and probably got snot all over him, but he took it bravely). They whispered to each other and Dean tried to give them their privacy for that.

Eventually both Cas and Claire were napping, and Dean used the time to clean himself up. He stumbled out to the kitchen, following the smell of something good. Sam had made coffee and set a cup before Dean, who could only whisper, “Thank you” with profound gratitude. Sam then set a plate of toast in front of Dean, who immediately realized he couldn’t remember the last time he ate, either.

“How are you doing?” Sam asked, once Dean was lulled with coffee and food.

Dean shrugged. “I’m not the one who got hurt.”

“Yeah, but…you killed someone, Dean. That’s…”

Dean clenched his teeth and stared into his mug. “He threatened my pup and my mate.”

“No, yeah, I get that,” Sam hurried to say, and even held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying he didn’t deserve to die. I just want to know _you’re_ okay.”

Dean forced his defensiveness away. “I’m fine, Sam.” He looked at his hands, now cradling a mug like he’d done every day of his life. His hands were red inside with rope burn, and sore. In his worry for Cas he hadn’t really noticed, but the heat from the mug didn’t actually feel that great on his hands. He needed something cool. Dean pushed the mug away.

He looked up at Sam. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said. “I don’t regret it.”

Sam stared at him, nosey, and then finally nodded and half-smiled. “Okay, then. But if you ever—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean rolled his eyes. “If I ever want to cry all over you I know where to find you. Sheesh, I’m not sure which of us is the omega here.”

Sam rolled his eyes and made a bitch face, and Dean got up to get himself a glass of water, letting the cool water run all over his hands in the process.

“I wasn’t afraid,” he muttered, not sure if Sam could hear or not. “For Cas, yeah, but… I wasn’t afraid of actually…killing Alastair.”

It sounded different said aloud.

“Okay,” Sam said quietly. “And for what it’s worth…I’m proud of you.”

“Okay,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, I mean it. I’m sure most alphas would expect you to have just…panicked or cried. But you saved everyone, Dean. You and Cas and Claire.”

Dean looked at his hands, red and tender but strong enough to protect his family. “Yeah.”

[](https://ibb.co/gvQpRc9)

~*~*~*~

ONE YEAR LATER

“Did I sleep this much when I was a baby?” Claire asked.

“Not even close,” Dean said, watching Jack’s tiny eyelashes flutter on his cheek. Jack was a very good baby, which of course was just about right, considering that now Dean wasn’t trying to deal with a baby on his own. Not that his family hadn’t been a huge help with Claire, of course they had been, it was just…different now.

“Should I put him in his crib?” Cas whispered. Dean nodded, and they began the complicated Handing Off a Sleeping Baby procedure. Cas bent down easily and got his arms around Jack, but he was always nervous holding him and walking. Dean didn’t know why; Castiel certainly never came close to dropping him. (Dean had once joked that it was too bad Jack didn’t have wings so that he could fly if anyone dropped him, and Cas had just stared at him with a look that said _‘Are you making a joke or did I mate a moron?’_ Dean had laughed for days.)

Cas settled Jack against his shoulder and the baby snuggled in. Dean smiled at them like a giant dopey omega mushpile because he was a giant dopey omega mushpile. Claire leaned against his arm and he wrapped it around her. Claire had started to request more snuggles since the baby showed up.

“When does he get fun?” she asked, as Cas carefully and slowly left to put the baby down.

Dean laughed. “It’ll still be a little while before you can really start playing with him, but it’ll go fast. Then you’ll have to show him how to play all your favorite games.”

“Because I’m the big sister,” she recited.

“That’s right.” Dean squeezed her.

“And I’m an Alpha,” she added.

“That’s right, too,” Dean agreed, a bit more hesitant. They weren’t sure Claire really understood what “Alpha” meant; that was okay, though. She was still so young, even if it seemed like she got bigger every day.

Claire frowned. “Can’t I be an Omega?”

Dean tried to hide his surprise. “Why do you want to be an Omega?”

“I wanna be like you!”

“Like me?”

“Of course you want to be like Daddy,” Cas said, slipping back into the living room. He then pretended to sit on Claire, which made her shriek and crawl across Dean’s lap. Dean almost got a knee to the balls and his frantic “Shhh!” went unheeded.

“Daddy’s brave,” Claire said, giggling.

“He is the bravest,” Cas agreed.

“I’m really not,” Dean said. “Papa is.”

Cas put an arm around Dean and Dean curled into his side. Claire flung herself across both their laps.

“He is,” Claire said. “But I want to be a warrior, like Daddy.”

“Claire!” Dean said. He was about to continue to point out that Cas had been a soldier, but Castiel whispered “Shh, it’s okay.”

Dean turned to look at him. Their heads were so close all he could see were Cas’s blue, blue eyes, and Dean couldn’t help that he melted every time. “If she doesn’t see me as a warrior, or soldier, it’s fine,” Cas whispered. “I really don’t mind.”

Dean could read the truth of that in his eyes and his scent, which smelled clean and relieved, if anything.

“Okay,” he whispered, and brushed their mouths together.

Claire yawned loudly and blinked up at them sleepily, but Dean knew better than to ask if she wanted to take a nap.

“Want Papa to tell you a story?” he asked.

“Mmh-hmm.”

“Which one?” Cas asked.

“The Angel of Shining Wings,” she said. “But the good version.”

“Oh, the _good_ version,” Cas teased, tugging on a lock of her hair. “What happens in the good version, again?”

“The Angel of Shining Wings goes to live with the peoples.”

“Oh yes,” Castiel said. “Now I remember.”

As he listened to his mate’s low voice, Dean snuggled into his shoulder. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, crunched together with Claire laying across them all boney angles, but he wouldn’t have moved for the world.


End file.
